


When the Snow Melts

by OpalRainDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 55
Words: 97,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalRainDragon/pseuds/OpalRainDragon
Summary: [COMPLETE] How can love blossom in the midst of hatred? How can it catch you so suddenly and unexpectedly? Draco's 6th year was not at all going how he had planned. But a friendship, a relationship with Harry? That was definitely not something he saw coming.Warnings:  DracoxHarry. Established RonxHermione. M/M M/F Sexual Content, Violence, Torture, Rape, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, just a lot of dark and unsavory shit really. You have been warned.This story is being published on Wattpad and then after a lot of feedback and agonizing re-working, I post it here. You can find me there @OpalRainDragon if you get too impatient to finish this story.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in their 6th year with some facts altered to suit the needs of the plot. If you cannot handle graphic sexual content, violence, torture, substance abuse, and rape, then this will be a most unpleasant read. I recommend that you find a different story.

Sirius was dead – taken by some damnable archway that lay unguarded in the Department of Mysteries. The absurdity of that fact alone was burning through his disbelieving mind. And to what purpose? What had they gained? Some stupid glass ball telling Harry that he had to sacrifice himself in order to defeat Voldemort. He felt like he was going to be sick just thinking about it.

"I never wanted you to find out," Headmaster Dumbledore admitted, watching Harry from behind his desk with sad blue eyes. He sat in his chair, sagging against the weight of his failures – a broken man with a thousand regrets.

Harry took a shuddering breath, struggling against a feeling of betrayal. "Who all knows?" he questioned darkly, wondering who else was in on it, who else had watched him grow up with this secret poisoning their heart.

"Not very many," the man replied. "I didn't have it in me to tell the rest of The Order. Sirius never would have accepted it if he had known."

Hearing his godfather's name spoken aloud was a dagger to his heart. Sirius would not have accepted this. He would have taken on the entirety of The Order and Voldemort's Death Eaters just to save him from this fate. But he was gone and Harry didn't have any fight left in him. It was all too much to bear.

"Am I free to go?" he asked, not wanting to spend another minute with Dumbledore's mournful eyes on him. "I have a lot of packing to finish before we leave."

"Yes, you can go." Dumbledore gestured towards the door, shifting uneasily in his chair, worry lines prominent on his ancient features. "Just promise me you'll talk about this with someone. If it can't be me, then please just find someone. This knowledge will eat you up if you let it."

Harry nodded in agreement even though he didn't intend to talk to anyone about this. What would it change if he did? Would it make death any less final? No, it wouldn't help him at all.

He walked resolutely to the dorms, his heart conflicted. He was going to die and he didn't know how he should feel about it, not with the loss of Sirius' so fresh in his mind. It seemed unfair that he had to mourn two people now – his godfather and himself.

A single thought started playing on loop, repeating over and over again.  _I'm going to die._  Everyone had to eventually, but this was different, this wasn't some far off probability. This was final and seemed so unbearably close.

 _I'm going to die._  


	2. Prologue

The newly arrived first-years were lined up down the middle of the Great Hall, nervousness wafting off them.

"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat announced from atop the head of a small, dirty-blond haired kid. He shuffled towards the Slytherin table in a state of shock, his new housemates welcoming him with sound of fists pounding on tables.

Draco glanced at the boy in disinterest.  _ Great _ , he thought.  _ Another annoying little rodent. _ He let out an irritated growl and waited impatiently for the sorting to finish. The school year had only just started and he was ready for it to be done.

"Draco," Pansy teased. "Knock it off – you're beginning to sound like my dog."

"At least I don't look like your dog," he snarled looking pointedly in Crabbe and Goyle's direction. They both shifted nervously in their seats, eyes fixed on the tabletop.

"What's put you in such a bad mood?" she asked in a bemused tone, despite already knowing the answer.

His eyes flitted towards a certain smiling, emerald-eyed boy. He couldn't help it, he growled again.

Pansy rolled her eyes in exasperation. Draco ignored her in preference of more brooding.

From the looks he was getting, it was obvious that the whole school had heard what had happened on the train.

(The Train, earlier that day)

Crabbe was focused, completely absorbed in the act of unwrapping another chocolate frog and adding the wrapper to his ever-growing pile of trash. He had done little else the entire ride. Something was up, but Draco couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Let's go see what Potter and his fan club are up to," Draco suggested after some thought, desperately wishing that things would return to business as usual.

Crabbe and Goyle shared a pained expression. Draco's brow crinkled in confusion in response.

"What's wrong with you guys?" he grumbled. "You've been acting strange all summer."

Goyle let out a resigned sigh, nodding in Crabbe's direction and then straightened in his seat, his expression determined. Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"Look Draco," Goyle explained. "Crabbe and I decided we want nothing to do with Potter this year. Every time we try something, it backfires. It isn't fun anymore."

Crabbe smiled apologetically and added, "With the war and all, we have better things to be doing than getting humiliated all the time."

Draco eyes widened in disbelief, taking in their solemn expressions. Crabbe and Goyle had always been there for him. Tormenting Harry was the glue that held their friendship together. What had changed here? He couldn't wrap his head around it. It felt like betrayal, but more than anything, it felt like he was being left behind, like they might be growing up and growing apart and he never even noticed it happening.

"Fine," he hissed, storming out of the compartment. "I'll just go by myself." He slammed the door closed behind him.

The train was crowded as usual as he shoved through his fellow students making his way to Harry Potter and Company's usual compartment. He paused momentarily, glaring at the door, wondering if this was a good idea. Even with Crabbe and Goyle's assistance, things rarely worked out in his favor. Since they were suddenly too good for him.... He swallowed the hard lump in his throat, stopping that train of thought before it could fully form.

The door was thin enough that he could just barely make out what they were saying. Ears straining, he took a step closer.

The fat kid that was always tagging along with them with them was speaking, his voice unnaturally high and tight.

"How was your summer?"

"Fine," Harry mumbled back.

He didn't have to see their faces to pick up on the awkwardness between them. The compartment fell silent. Draco shifted uncomfortably, having doubts about his purpose in being there.

Just when Draco had decided to leave, he was slammed into from behind by a passing student, crashing into the door with a loud, "Ooof."

He groaned, pushing himself up and shooting a glare at the retreating form. "How about you watch where you're going?" he snarled incredulously. The boy never even turned around.

Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention back, the door to the compartment was opening. Harry Potter stood framed in the now open doorway with an exasperated expression on his worn face.

"What do you want Malfoy?" he sighed.

Eyes wide, Draco froze for a moment, considering his options. He wasn't sure why he was there. It seemed like such a stupid idea in retrospect. To save face, he began grasping at straws to explain his presence there.

"Just wanted to let you be the first to hear about the new brooms the Slytherin Team is getting," he informed smugly. "We're going to humiliate you on the field this year. It's going to be so bad that even your own mothers will want to disown you."

"Those of you that still have mothers that is," he added, smirking maliciously in Potter's face.

Potter rolled his eyes, not taking the bait. "You've been saying that for how many years? It's time to face reality, Malfoy – there isn't a broom in the world that will compensate for your lack of skill." He shrugged indifferently. "Guess there are some problems that money can't solve."

Weasley let out a loud guffaw, gripping his sides as he laughed obnoxiously. It was a bit much. The joke hadn't even been funny.

Annoyed, Draco grit his teeth, his fists clenched at his sides. He wasn't making idle threats. His father had hired a former pro player to help him train over summer break. They had set up a series of complicated aerial obstacle courses on the grounds and put together a rigorous training schedule. He did little else but train and it showed. His skill level had improved substantially.

Wiping tears out of his eyes, Weasley composed himself and stepped protectively in front of Potter, expression smug.

"Are you sure it won't be your own mother who will want to disown you?" he taunted.

Draco's blood was boiling. How dare this filthy blood traitor imply such a thing? Without even considering the consequences of his actions, he found his fist connecting with the red-head's face. Weasley stumbled back in surprise, crashing into Potter as his hand covered his injured nose.

Two curses whizzed by the boys, simultaneously hitting Draco in the chest. He fell backwards with a look of astonishment. Everything had happened so fast.

With minimal effort, Potter shoved Draco's legs out of the compartment with the toe of his shoe – a look of disgust on his face. Before the door closed, Draco caught a glimpse of Granger taking Weasley's face gently in her hands and checking for damage. Draco was now alone in the aisle, unable to move, his skin maroon with gold stripes. The embarrassment was intolerable.

"Shit," he heard Weasley's panicked voice through the door. "I think I'm bleeding. Hermione, am I bleeding? It feels like I should be bleeding."

"No, Ron," Granger soothed. "You're not bleeding."

Now Draco was really pissed. Not only had he failed to embarrass Perfect Little Potter and his groupies, but he had also failed to give weasel-boy a proper bloody nose. At least if he had done some real damage then being in such an awkward predicament would have been slightly less humiliating.

Crabbe and Goyle found him some time later, but not until after half the school had shown up to laugh at him. If not for the maroon coloring, his face would have been beet red.

(The present)

Draco tensed at the memory, his jaw tight. As of yet his housemates had been unable to get rid of the maroon skin coloring or the gold stripes. He just wanted to eat dinner quickly and then die quietly in his room. The rabble kept casting amused glances in his direction, which were typically followed by a round of giggling and finger pointing.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted in glee, assigning another boy to that accursed house.

He glanced up, trying to fix the boy's face in his mind. He had to keep track of all the incoming Gryffindors this year. How else would he know who needed to get extra detention? Those lousy Gryffindors were always up to something, flaunting the rules, bullying other students, and disrespecting the Professors.

"Is it just me," he asked idly, taking in the boy's small stature. "Or are the first years getting shrimpier as the years progress?"

Pansy shrugged indifferently, and the idiotic duo just stared at him with dumb expressions on their faces. It really bothered him that no one had responded, so he made another attempt.

"We weren't that small, were we?"

Another shrug from Pansy. His friends squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. They had been casting guilty glances in his direction all night.

"It's just no fun roughing them up when they're so pathetic." He complained loudly, struggling to illicit a response. "Feels like I'm squashing ants."

A few people further down the table snickered. Some of first years that had just joined them were eyeing Draco apprehensively. He was amused by the fact that they were not yet aware that Draco rarely dirtied his hands in such a manner.

The mood was ruined when one of the older kids began laughing uncontrollably. "I'm sorry Draco," he gasped. "I just can't take you very seriously when you look like that."

Draco gave the boy a withering look before turning to glare at Potter - the person responsible for his current situation.

Harry, noticing Malfoy's cold eyes on him, leaned close to Ron and whispered, "He's still glaring at me."

Ron followed Harry's gaze, a wicked smile appearing on his face.

"Maybe he likes you or something," Ron teased.

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust, shuddering at the thought. "Now that's a mental picture I could live without," he replied sourly.

Ron's eyes twinkled mischievously. "What, afraid of getting another secret admirer?"

Harry squirmed as several eyes turned his way. There would never come a day when he wouldn't be bothered by the attention he constantly received. Hermione smiled sympathetically.

"Just ignore him," she advised. Neville nodded in agreement.

"But it's making me nervous," he complained.

Malfoy's pride had been severely wounded. Harry was certain that it would not go unpunished. He could practically see the wheels turning – things were not going to end well.

"Stupid ferret," Ron grumbled, trying to lighten the mood. "I know, let's all smile and wave at him."

Both Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes as the red-head followed through with his suggestion. Malfoy quickly looked away in embarrassment.

The sorting continued. Harry was only half-listening as Ron happily chattered away about Quidditch.

It was a disconcerting thought, but something about the confrontation with Malfoy on the train wasn't adding up. Malfoy's actions were usually better planned out than that.

Harry glanced back at the Slytherin table. It didn't take a psychic to see that there was a lot of emotional distance between Malfoy and his entourage. When Malfoy wasn't glaring at him, he was shooting Crabbe and Goyle irritated looks. Harry had his suspicions.

His thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt appearance of food on the table. Somehow, he had missed the entirety of Headmaster Dumbledore's welcoming speech.

There was a flurry of activity as the older students dug in. The first years were temporarily frozen in surprise. Harry smiled, remembering how it felt to be in their shoes not that long ago. It was a lot to take in on the first day.

"Come on, eat up," Ron coaxed in an overly cheerful voice, piling food onto Harry's plate.

Harry smiled wanly as he picked up his fork. With very deliberate movements, he shoveled some mashed potatoes into his mouth. Ron always insisted on "fattening him up" whenever he came back from the Dursleys. While he appreciated his friend's concern, it was becoming quite exasperating. Harry's appetite just wasn't there most days.

Ron smiled at him before attacking his own food in a frenzy. Mouth full, he made a garbled comment about the quality of the food. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. His eyes went wide at her expression, hurriedly swallowing so that he could apologize to her. It was a routine occurrence since Ron's passion for food often overrode his common sense.

"Sorry, Mione."

As everyone settled back into the swing of things, the cacophony in the Great Hall swelled. Harry gave up on the idea of following any sort of conversation. He let his thoughts drift.

A quick glance at the Slytherin table was enough to confirm that Malfoy had resumed glaring at him. He got the distinct impression that sooner or later, he was going to feel the boy's wrath.

He tried to push that thought from his mind as he shoveled another obligatory bite into his mouth. His appetite might be non-existent, but that wouldn't discourage Ron's mother-hen act. He had to make a good show of eating his meal.

Thoughts darkening, Harry wondered if this would be his last Welcoming Feast. Trelawney's prophecy had made it quite clear that Harry's days were numbered. It was only a matter of when. What little appetite remained, quickly evaporated.

"Uh," Ron groaned, pulling Harry out of his melancholic thoughts, and patting his stomach appreciatively. "I'm stuffed."

Harry put his fork down and nodded. "Me too."

Hermione eyed his plate skeptically but said nothing. Harry always appreciated her tact. If only it would rub off on Ron.

Some of the first-years had started yawning loudly – they were valiantly fighting off a food-induced coma. Ron and Hermione took that as their cue that it was time to herd them all off to bed.

"We'll meet you back in the dorms," Hermione informed him, latching on to Ron so that she could drag him away before he noticed Harry's mostly full plate. "Come on Ron, we have Prefects duties to attend to."

Ron gave Harry an apologetic look as they turned to leave.

"It's fine," he assured them. "I don't need an escort."

Neville offered to stay with Harry anyway.

With a lot of wild gesticulating and copious amounts of assistance from Hermione, Ron managed to round up the first-years.

Harry watched the two of them for a moment, smiling at the red-head's antics. He was glad they had each other, even though it made him slightly jealous. With a sigh, he headed to the dorms, Neville following quietly behind him. This was going to be a long year, especially with everybody fussing over him.   
  



	3. Unexpected Truce

Potions on the first day of school - it was one of the few subjects that Draco genuinely enjoyed. Not only was he good at it, but he also got to watch Potter being constantly humiliated by Professor Snape. After the night he had, he needed all the cheering up he could get. At least the maroon skin and gold stripes had disappeared overnight. If not for that, he had been fully committed to staying in his room for the rest of eternity. One night of pointing and giggling was enough for a lifetime.

The dungeon was just as he remembered it - cold, damp, and slightly slimy. Popular opinion on the slime was that it had something to do with Professor Snape's hair goo. That shit was not natural.

Professor Snape was posted at the front of the class, arms crossed, with a disdainful look on his face. He spared a quick smile for Draco and then went back to giving the Gryffindors disparaging looks in response to their often childish antics.

A very flustered Potter darted into the classroom just in time, panting to catch his breath. He shuffled towards his seat, eyes averted, attempting to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He failed miserably. It was hard not to notice him. How was it that someone so small could make so much noise?

"By the way Potter," Snape jeered. "Dumbledore has requested that you continue with remedial potions until you get it right." He fixed Harry with a meaningful look.

The green-eyed boy's jaw clenched in a flash of anger before acquiescing, his shoulders drooping in defeat.

Draco and the rest of the Slytherins snickered. The fact that Potter was so terrible at potions that he needed to take remedial lessons was well known. Even still, it was nice hearing Professor Snape announce it to the whole class. Many had speculated that the only reason Professor Snape had allowed Potter to take Advanced Potions was so that he could continue to antagonize the boy. Quite frankly, Draco couldn't fathom why Potter would sign up for the continued abuse. Maybe he was a sadist.

The rest of the class was uneventful. Professor Snape, like many of the other professors, believed summer break routinely purged the students of their memory and reasoning abilities. After ten minutes of asinine responses, Draco was forced to agree with them. It left him feeling rather disappointed in his fellow students.

Unfortunately, lunch didn't go any better. Pansy was out for blood and she had Draco in her sights.

"So, Draco," she inquired innocently. "Isn't your younger brother coming here next year?"

Draco glowered at her, his lips pressed tightly together. Everyone knew that was a very sore subject for him. He couldn't fathom her intentions in bringing the boy up.

Unfazed by his expression, she continued. "What was his name again?"

"Faren," Draco growled.

She brightened. "Yeah, that was his name. He's such a charming little boy. I saw him at a party this summer. He has gotten so big. He looks like a miniature version of your father," she chattered on, oblivious to Draco's darkening demeanor.

With a huff, he stormed out of the Great Hall, lunch abandoned, his stomach growling. Pansy never spoke without motive. He had to wonder what the point of that little exchange was. He certainly didn't enjoy being the target of it, whatever the intended effect.

Faren was much adored in the Malfoy household. People warmed up to him quickly. He easily excelled at everything he put his mind to. He had a knack for manipulating situations. He was everything a Malfoy should be.

Draco had been quickly overshadowed by the boy. He had not been born with the same natural talents. Draco emulated his father as best he could, but even he was forced to admit that he was a pale imitation at best. He just didn't inspire the kind of loyalty that his father did. His one saving grace had been that he had been born a Malfoy. In Pureblood Politics, that gave him power over his peers, power that he often used to his advantage.

Unbeknownst to Malfoy though, the playing field was beginning to shift. Pansy smirked in satisfaction at his retreating form.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry was running to class as fast as he could, shoving his transfiguration book into his bag as he went, and slinging it over his shoulder. He couldn't believe he had left it, still packed, in his school trunk. Professor McGonagall would never let him hear the end of it if he arrived late to class on the first day of school. Punctuality was a virtue in the woman's eyes, especially when it came to children in her own house.

Harry was forced to pull up short to avoid a collision. Crabbe and Goyle stood towering over him, arms crossed, blocking his path. He groaned inwardly and gave them a resigned look. He'd had a feeling that this day was coming. No one messes with Malfoy without feeling the wrath of these two.

"Hurry up and hit me so I can get on my way," he grumbled. Even if he had been was willing to fight back, he was no match for the two giant-like teens. With an amused smirk, he realized that showing up to class with a black eye would certainly get him out of trouble for being late.

The two boys shifted uncomfortably, faces flitting through a series of emotions. Finally, Goyle interrupted the awkward silence. "Listen, we just want to let you know that we aren't going to be trying anything with you this year. If Draco does something to you, just please leave us out of it."

The Gryffindor was taken aback and confused. He wondered vaguely if this was some kind of trick. It just didn't make sense. Maybe he had fallen on his way down the stairs and banged his head, knocking himself into a coma. If this was a dream, he wanted out - he had never been fond of mysteries. That was more Hermione's cup of tea.

Goyle smiled at Harry's confused expression. "Let's make a deal," he continued, holding out his hand to shake on it. "We stay out of your business and you stay out of ours. No more fighting, okay?" Crabbe nodded his agreement, allowing Goyle to do all the talking. It was probably a good decision on his part. Of the two of them, Goyle was the much better conversationalist - if you could even call him that.

Harry eyed them both warily, not sure if he should shake the mammoth's hand, afraid of what kind of curse might befall him if he did. He decided not to risk it. With an obvious motion, he placed his hands behind his back. The two boys looked genuinely crestfallen.

"I'm sorry guys," Harry explained by way of apology. "It's going to take a lot more than a handshake for me to trust you."

"Fair enough," Goyle replied with a curt nod before shrugging in Crabbe's direction.

When Harry made a move to walk pass them, they let him go - no trouble, no tripping, and no curses being thrown at his open back.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" he grumbled aloud to himself.

"Can you let your friends know as well?" Goyle yelled after him.

"Sure," Harry called back, not turning around, still wondering if this was all a dream.

With a start, he remembered Transfiguration class and his impending doom at the hands of Professor McGonagall. He took off running once again. Maybe there was still time to severely injury himself before he reached her class?

The door was closed when he arrived. He could hear Professor McGonagall's voice through it. Class had already started. He was doomed. He took a few deep breaths to gather his courage and slowly opened the door, wilting under her icy glare.

"Sorry," he explained contritely, eyes downcast. "I left my book in my room."

She eyed him coldly, no trace of pity evident.

"I will not tolerate tardiness from you Mr. Potter. Five points from Gryffindor."

His housemates let out a groan. He shot her a pitiful look from under his messy bangs, but she was unmoved.

"Be glad that I didn't take away one point for every second you were late. You are no longer a first year and I will not be doing any coddling."

She swept her gaze across the rest of the classroom pointedly. The message was clear. She wouldn't be putting up with shit from them.

Harry gulped. "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

He quickly took a seat next to Ron and tried to pull out his supplies as quietly as he possibly could. He didn't want to further incite her wrath.

Once he was situated, his thoughts returned to his encounter with Crabbe and Goyle. It still didn't make any sense, unless the plan had been to make him late on purpose. He ripped off a piece of parchment and started writing.

 

 _Ron, something weird is going on. Crabbe  
_ _and Goyle just called a truce and they_  
asked me to pass on the message.

 

Ron read the note and responded.

 

 _It has to be part of some kind of trap. We'll  
_ _talk to Hermione when class is over._

 

Harry nodded in agreement and continued to brood on the situation. It was review day anyway. It wasn't like he needed to listen or anything.

<<<<<     >>>>>

Hermione was idly pushing her food around on her plate, thinking about what Harry and Ron had said. She had never been able to let go of a good mystery.

She began staring intently at the Slytherin table, trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. As Harry had noted earlier, it did appear as if Malfoy and his bodyguards were no longer on speaking terms. Malfoy was completely ignoring the two and seemed to be entirely absorbed in his conversation with Parkinson.

Suddenly, an idea struck her.

"I wonder," Hermione mused aloud.

Both Ron and Harry looked at her expectantly.

"This is of course only a theory," she explained, pausing to study the Slytherins a bit more, "but maybe, just maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Ron prodded when she trailed off.

"I don't know," she sighed. "It just seems like Malfoy is spending a lot of time with Parkinson lately."

The boys studied the two people in question. Malfoy had an amused smirk on his face as Parkinson talked in a very animated manner, her eyes twinkling.

"Maybe they had a falling out because of her? It's entirely possible that Crabbe and Goyle weren't interested in carrying on a feud that they were not emotionally invested in?"

The boys stared at the Slytherins in wonder. Hermione wore a satisfied smile on her face.

"It makes sense," Ron admitted.

"Yeah, it does," Harry agreed.

All three of them rolled this new information around in their heads, testing it for faults.

"But that's good news for us," Hermione concluded. "It means we won't be terrorized by them anymore. Now we can concentrate on more important things." She left the 'more important things' unsaid, knowing that the two were bright enough to get the hint.

The boys shrugged and went back to their food with disappointed expressions. She frowned at them, realizing that they were upset that their little feud was coming to an end. As much as they always complained, she'd have to be an idiot not to notice that they had secretly enjoyed it.

"Boys," she muttered under her breath with an eye roll.  



	4. Of Misguided Fools

The Gryffindors were out on the field practicing when the Slytherin team arrived with self-satisfied smirks plastered on their faces. Harry eyed them suspiciously.

"Do you mind," Katie Bell snarled," we're trying to practice here, and we don't require an audience."

A few of the Slytherins snickered. The Gryffindors tightened ranks and glared back at them. Malfoy's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"That may be so," Malfoy revealed. "But now it's our turn to practice. I'm going to need you to leave now." He twiddled his fingers in a mocking goodbye gesture, causing tensions to rise in response.

"Like hell it is," she protested loudly. "Gryffindor gets the field on Mondays and Thursdays."

"And?" he responded with a derisive snort.

Katie clenched her broom tightly, knuckles turning white. "And it's Monday," she growled through gritted teeth. "So, we have the field today."

Malfoy's smug demeaner was rubbing everyone the wrong way. His face was just asking for a beating. Malfoy appeared unconcerned by the anger being directed his way.

"Not according to this wonderful little note from Professor Snape," he taunted, waving a piece of parchment in their general direction.

The Gryffindors shifted nervously on their brooms, most remembering a similar occurrence a few years back. Malfoy looked directly at him, smirking. Harry bristled at the boy's attention, jaw tense, grip tight on his broom.

"My father bought the team new brooms," he explained. "We need the extra practice so that we can get a feel for them."

The Slytherin team held out their new brooms to give the Gryffindors a better view. A few of them paled considerably when they realized what they were – pro-level racing brooms. Harry and Ron knew this was coming, but it had slipped their mind – they should have given Katie a heads up.

"You see," Malfoy continued. "These brooms are the fastest on the market. We have to get used to the speed of them or we could have a fatal accident."

"Good," Ron snarled. "Fall off your brooms and die."

"This isn't fair," Ginny cried in indignation, moving closer to her brother. "We need the practice just as much as you do."

"Don't worry," Malfoy retorted, his smile turning wicked. "All the practice in the world won't help you this season."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Ron challenged.

"What I mean is," the Slytherin explained, smirking at the red-head. "...that this season you won't win no matter how hard you train, especially if they intend to keep you on the team – you're a disaster waiting to happen."

Ron's face burned red, he was shaking, white knuckled on his broom. Harry's blood was boiling as he moved closer to his friend, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder in solidarity. They both glared in unison at their least favorite Slytherin.

As if suddenly becoming aware of his predicament, Draco paled, quickly changing tactics to prevent violence.

"Hurry up and get off the field," he ordered, voice quavering slightly. "Or do I need to get Professor Snape to force you off?"

Upon hearing his name, Professor Snape appeared at the edge of the pitch as if summoned from the darkest pits of hell. All but Harry wilted in defeat under the intensity of the man's glare. There was nothing they could do to change the situation. One by one the Gryffindor team dismounted, each shooting dirty looks at the Slytherins as they passed.

Harry was the last to land, eyes like daggers as he watched Professor Snape. He stalked off the field, head held high, refusing to give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing how upset he was. That was a mistake. As Harry passed in front of the Slytherin team, Malfoy moved his foot out in Harry's path. Harry was completely oblivious – his foot caught Malfoy's and he came tumbling down. The Slytherins snickered at Harry's sprawled out form on the ground.

"Maybe you should learn how to walk," Malfoy taunted.

Gritting his teeth to keep his cool, Harry got to his feet and dusted himself off.

"Have a nice day," Draco jeered, with a mocking wave, the team still snickering.

He had intended to walk away, but Malfoy had pushed too many buttons that day. Quidditch was one of the few things he looked forward to. He couldn't keep his feelings in check anymore. In a smooth motion, he spun around and just as he'd seen his cousin do a thousand times before, he put the full force of his weight into his punch as his fist connected with Malfoy's face. Now Malfoy was the one sprawled out on the ground. He glared down at the boy, eyes burning with hate.

"Potter," Snape thundered, crossing the field like a rabid bat, his robes billowing out behind him. "That was uncalled for. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

He eyed the boy in disgust. "I also expect to see you every day this week for detention."

"But sir," Harry sputtered indignantly. "He tripped me."

Malfoy sat up in stunned silence, blood pouring from his nose and dripping off his chin. He put his hand to his face and pulled it away, paling at the sight of his own blood.

"Don't try to weasel your way out of this one by making up stories," the Potions Master said with a sneer. "I was standing right there. All that I saw was you tripping over your own robes. If you care to argue with me any further, I'll give you another week of detention."

Harry glared at the man before stalking off, visibly shaking with anger. He stormed into the locker room and punched the nearest wall, attracting the team's attention.

"I hate him," he screamed, punching the wall repeatedly, his knuckles coming back bloodied.

The team nodded sympathetically.

"We all do," the red-head soothed, pulling his friend away from the wall.

Harry sighed in defeat, cupping his injured fist to his chest. Hitting things would solve nothing.

 <<<<<    >>>>>

Draco was at the center of a group of fawning girls, reveling in the attention he was getting as he relayed the story of how he was brutally attacked by the deranged Harry Potter. Pansy was playing her part too.

"...and as Potter was walking off the field, he tripped over his own robes and fell flat on his face." The girls squealed in delight. "We of course found this hilarious, so we started laughing and he got all pissed off and punched me in the face," the boy complained loudly.

"Aww, poor Draco," Pansy cooed, snuggling closer to the blond-haired boy.

"What did you do?" a first-year questioned eagerly, eyes wide.

"I was going to beat the bloody crap out of him," Draco drawled with false bravado, "but Professor Snape showed up and gave him detention before I could. He would have been so dead otherwise."

"Then, I was forced to go see Madame Pomfrey. The bastard had punched me so hard that he had broken my nose. What kind of monster goes around breaking people's noses?"

The girls gasped in surprise. Pansy struggled not to roll her eyes. From the version of the story she had heard earlier that day, after the initial shock had worn off, he had been carried off on a stretcher howling dramatically about what his father would do when he found out.

"And he only got detention," one of them cried in indignation.

"He should have been expelled," another exclaimed.

"I know," Draco said, sighing dramatically. "But we all know that Dumbledore would never do that. He refuses to see the truth – that Potter is just a rabid dog that needs to be put down."

"He's a menace," Pansy confirmed, playing her part. "Always breaking the rules and getting away with it because he's The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't- Die."

The girls all nodded knowingly.

"Don't worry about it," Draco proclaimed bravely, flashing his Prefect's badge. "I won't let him get away with it this year. Just because most of the teachers turn a blind eye to his behavior doesn't mean I have to. When my father hears about this..."

Crabbe and Goyle were some distance away. Pansy saw them roll their eyes at Draco's antics. They knew full well that Draco had started that fight. The only ones that were fooled by this bit of theater were the simpering fools that Draco was pandering to – and possibly Draco himself. Draco didn't seem to operate in the same reality as the rest of them.

Pansy surveyed the group of fawning girls in satisfaction. Most of them were from less prominent families trying to cozy up to the Malfoy heir in hopes of catching his eye and moving up in the world. What was sad about the whole spectacle was that Draco thought their concern was genuine. He was such a gullible idiot. Pretty, but dumb. That would suit her goals just fine. The students from more prominent families kept glancing over, struggling to disguise their disgust.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this last bit casts Draco in a rather unflattering light, but just remember that it's Pansy's POV, so she is setting the tone. I love Draco and he will have his chance to shine. I promise.


	5. A Cupboard?

"What are you going to sic on us this time?" Draco sneered at Professor Hagrid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter visibly tense up. He smiled at the prospect of further antagonizing the boy. He couldn't help himself; Potter was so full of himself. He really needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

The other parts of the Golden Trio moved closer to Potter protectively. Granger brushed her hand lightly over his arm to settle him. Potter gave her a weak smile before all three shifted their attention to Professor Hagrid once more. They formed a united front, smiling encouragingly at the bumbling idiot. It was quite a disgusting display - one that basically went unnoticed by the giant.

With a lot of nervous shifting of his feet, Professor Hagrid broke the  _ unfortunate _ news.

"I'm sorry ter disappoint yeh, but the creatures we were teh be studyin' today haven't arrived yet."

Draco and many of the other students let out an audible sigh of relief. The giant frowned before continuing.

"Anyway, I ask that all of yeh open yer books ter page 17 and read all the way ter page 24. When yeh is done, yeh can leave," he finished.

A few of the students groaned at the announcement. Reading assignments were the worst.

"At least no one will be losing any limbs today," Draco concluded aloud, drawing chuckles from those closest to him.

The Golden Trio shot him dirty looks before seating themselves on a nearby log. He was close enough to them to be able to catch snippets of their conversation.

He never understood why everyone was so smitten with the boy. Draco was the only one who saw him for what he truly was - a threat to the students at this school. Ever since he arrived, bad shit had been happening. People had died. Potter was a homing beacon for disaster.

Draco needed to discover what kind of mischief they were up to this time. He took a few steps closer, posting himself up against a tree a few feet away. He didn't want it to appear as if he was trying to eavesdrop. Maybe if he discovered something, he could find a way to make the boy leave. Everyone would be much better off if he did.

"How bad was detention with Professor Slime last night?" Weasley whispered in a hushed voice.

Potter shrugged, face glued to the pages of his book. Weasley cast Hermione a worried look.

"You've been acting weird lately. What's up?" he prodded anxiously.

"It's nothing," Potter replied with an irritated sigh. "I'm fine."

Draco leaned in closer. It looked like the red-head wasn't going to let the matter drop. Draco was bursting with excitement to find out what could be bothering Perfect Little Potter.

"I still don't understand why you chose to stay with the Dursley's the whole time. We were really worried about you," he continued.

Granger placed her hand on the boy's shoulder. Draco fought against the urge to make gagging noises. All this lovey-dovey shit was too disgusting.

Glancing at the hand on his shoulder, Harry gave them both a pained expression. "Can we not?" he implored.

Weasley was like a dog with a bone. "No," he growled. "I am not going to drop this. We're your friends and we can't help you if we don't know what's going on."

Potter pursed his lips in aggravation, "I just don't want to talk about it. Nothing I say will change the situation, so let's just drop it."

"What situation?" Weasley cried in alarm, drawing a few glances from the other students. Draco quirked his eyebrow, curious about what they could mean. "What happened?" he pestered, much too loudly. "Did they lock you in that cupboard again? Is that why you didn't contact us?"

Potter's face hardened, a dangerous look in his eyes that made Draco shudder.

"That's not it," he replied coldly.

Granger nudged Weasley's foot and glanced around pointedly.

Finally noticing that all eyes were on the trio, the red-head crumpled in on himself. "Sorry, Harry."

Draco gave Potter an appraising look, studying his worn and hollowed features. Their eyes met. Potter scowled at him. Draco glanced quickly away, unnerved by the feral look in the boy's eyes.

Learning that Potter's own family treated him like a dangerous animal was worrisome _. What did they know that the rest of the world didn't? _

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco had mulled a few ideas around in his head before coming to a decision on what he would do with his newfound knowledge. Pansy was the unofficial leader of the Slytherin Rumor Mill. If you needed to get incriminating information out to the student body, or really the whole world, she was the one to go to. All it would take was a nudge in the right direction.

"I heard something interesting today," Draco whispered conspiratorially in Pansy's ear.

Pansy's eyebrow arched, questioningly.

"It seems that Potter's family is so terrified of him that they keep him locked up in a cupboard."

Pansy's eyes widened dramatically. "Go on," she insisted.

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Can you believe that the Headmaster just lets someone so dangerous roam the halls freely? I mean, what kind of person do you have to be for your own family to feel unsafe leaving you on the loose?"

The girl smiled wickedly. Draco knew he had given her everything she needed to put the information to good use.

The next day, the headlines read:  _ 'Potter Deranged - Family Fears for their Life.' _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically, people try to use Harry's tragic backstory as a plot device to bring Draco closer to him. Personally, I think that Draco has very fixed ideas about who Harry is. Instead of reconsidering the type of person Harry might be, he would rather view new information through biased lenses.


	6. The Unsettling Quidditch Match

Draco felt his stomach tighten into a nervous knot. Today was Judgment Day. Time to find out if all those private lessons were going to pay off. The very thought of failing was making him nauseous.

"Eat something," Pansy chided.

He looked down at his breakfast and felt considerably sicker. "No thanks," he mumbled.

The other members of the Slytherin team had an air of confidence about them. He would have believed it if not for the tell-tale signs of nervousness. This was Judgment Day for them all. They really needed a win today.

Montague stood with a confident grin on his face, all eyes locked on him. "Gryffindor doesn't stand a chance this year. We have better brooms, we trained harder than them, and while we've been gaining talented players each year, they've been losing them. We've got this one in the bag," he announced boldly. The tension in the air dissipated at his words, smiles cracking all around.

"He's right," Millicent chimed in. "Those losers don't stand a chance against us. Let's go crush us some weak little Gryffindorks."

Draco gave Millicent an appreciative smile, suddenly feeling silly for being so nervous, and shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. 

It had come as a shock for everyone when Montague had allowed Millicent, a girl, on the team. This was a first for the Slytherins, but there was no denying how talented she was in her role as Keeper. Nothing could get passed her. She was an absolute beast on the field.

"Let's go kick some arse," Blaise cried rousingly, eliciting cheers from the Sytherin team.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "Language," he warned with a frown.

They didn't spare him a second glance as they boisterously exited the Great Hall. Draco downed a glass of orange juice and followed the team out, his nerves settled and his mood greatly improved.

  <<<<<    >>>>>  

Seamus Finnigan's voice echoed across the field, penetrating the holding area in which the Gryffindor team waited to make their appearance.

"Today is going to be a very exciting grudge match between two strong rivals. I wonder who will win? I've been sneaking a peak at the team practices and I can tell you that this season is going to be amazing. Harry Potter has returned to the Gryffindor team. And once again, Slytherin house takes to the field with the best equipment money can buy."

"Wait a minute..." he paused as Professor McGonagall whispered something in his ear, there was a moment of muffled conversation and the sound shifting of paper reverberated across the field before Seamus cleared his throat rather loudly. "Alright, let's get this show on the road," he screamed. 

That was the cue to enter the field, the crowd erupting into chest-rumbling cheers as they walked toward the center of the field where Madam Hooch was waiting. 

"First ones out the gate, the Gryffindor team. No new faces this year, but they have rearranged their lineup a bit. Potter is of course reprising his role as Seeker." 

Harry was acutely aware of hundreds of eyes locked on him, but it only caused a momentary feeling of nervousness. Over the years, he'd grown accustomed to the spotlight being on him during Quidditch matches.

"Ginny Weasley, a new fan-favorite, has been moved to the Chaser position with Spinnet and their lovely captain, Katie Bell. We'll miss you next year, Katie." Professor McGonagall elbowed him in the ribs when he started making smootchy sounds in Katie's direction. A blush was forming on her face at all the attention being directed her way.

"Okay, okay," he whined, rubbing his side before continuing.

"Kirke and Sloper have stayed on as Beaters. And, while we all miss the Weasley twins, I believe I speak for everyone when I say that the world of Quidditch can only handle two Weasleys per team. Which brings us to the other Weasley, Ronald Weasley, who will be holding down the Keeper position and hopefully his stomach. As some of you may recall from last year, his performance on the field was often hit or miss. Here's hoping he got a lot of practice in this summer. We believe in you Ron," he shouted encouragingly

Harry cast a worried glance in Ron's direction, noting the sheen of sweat that was gracing his forehead and the slightly green tinge to his skin. This morning's pep talk was already wearing off, but it was too loud over the noise of the crowd for him to reassure him. Instead he schooled his features and gave him a confident smile.

"Next up," Seamus boomed over the roar of the crowd, "the Slytherin team.  "I'm sure it comes as no great shock to see Malfoy returning to his role as Seeker, but this year he might actually deserve it. From what I've seen so far, he is on a whole other level. It would not surprise me in the least if he gave Potter a run for his money."

"Montague, Warrington, and Zabini are set to be Chasers again this year. In terms of pure speed, Gryffindor doesn't stand a chance, but without the talent to back it up... who knows?"

While last year that had been the case, Harry was genuinely concerned by how much extra practice the Slytherin team was able to steal from the other teams. It made his blood boil just thinking about it.

Seamus picked back up when the booing had finally died down, his voice loud and self-assured.

"Crabbe and Goyle get to flex some muscle in the Beater position and boy do they have plenty of muscle to flex. Have you guys been working out?" he inquired jovially. Both boys performed arm curls in acknowledgment, gloating despite the boos being directed their way.

"And a first for Slytherin, a girl has been tapped for the role of Keeper! I have seen Millicent in action and I can say with 100% confidence that nothing is getting passed her. Gryffindor is going to have a hard time of it this year."

Again, he was forced to wait out the boos before continuing.

"Who will prevail?" he questioned ominously. "Better keep on your toes for this one, as it stands it could be anyone's game."

The Slytherins cheered for a solid five minutes and could not be settled down. While they waited for the screaming to subside, the players moved into position. Harry couldn't help but glare at Draco's smirking face as he waved at the crowd, basking in the glory of all the attention he was receiving.

"Now that's over, I want a good clean game," Madame Hooch announced looking pointedly at the Slytherin team. They peered back at her, a picture of innocence. No one was buying it.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked. Both Team Captains nodded in response.

Harry found it impossible to ignore the growing sense of foreboding that was building up in his chest. His nerves were shot before they'd even begun and his stomach was twisting itself into painful knots.

The whistle was blown (too soon it felt), and one by one, the players launched themselves into the sky. Harry picked a good vantage point somewhat away from the action and began scanning the field. It was a perfect day for Quidditch – sunny and just a little cold. That thought should have been reassuring, but it wasn't.

"Slytherin in possession," Seamus announced, drawing Harry's attention to the field. "Montague passes to Warrington and surprisingly... Warrington catches..."

"Ouch," Seamus exclaimed in surprise, obviously having received another elbow to the ribs. "What was that for? I'm not being biased, it's the truth. I'm constantly surprised by the fact that he can simultaneously catch something and stay atop his broom. You forget how long I've known the bloke."

Peals of laughter rang out from the stands. Harry had to admit that Seamus was in top form today, even if he had made some disconcerting pronouncements.

He continued listening as Katie adjusted her position on the field. As much as he needed to be looking for the snitch, Harry couldn't take his eyes off the game. The Slytherin team was really something this year. It was almost appalling how much of a difference there was compared to last year.

"Come on, Katie. It's right in front of you," Seamus encouraged. Katie closed the distance and took possession of the quaffle.

"She shoots...she misses. Intercepted by Bulstrode. Tough luck Katie."

Harry caught sight of the smug look on the Slytherin Keeper's face. He had been hoping that Seamus had been overestimating the girl's skill, but he knew in his heart that she had to have been spectacular for Montague to overlook the fact that she was a girl.

Slytherin was quickly outmaneuvering them, gaining total control of the field. Harry forced himself to split his focus between the game and his search.

"Zabini shoots and... it's in." Seamus whistled loudly. "Damn that was fast. Weasley didn't even know what hit him. Don't worry Ron," he added seeing the crestfallen look on the boy's face. "I highly doubt if Wood could have blocked that one." Ron brightened a little, but it was short-lived. The Gryffindor Team couldn't keep up, they were rapidly losing ground.

Harry narrowly dodged a bludger that was launched in his direction, his heart thundering loudly in chest in response to the adrenaline spike. That had been a little too close for comfort. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to stop worrying about Ron and find the damned Snitch. The longer this game went on, the worse it was going to get.

"Currently the score is 90-0 with Slytherin in the lead."

The Slytherins roared in approval while the rest of the crowd booed and hissed.

A flash of gold caught Harry's eye. His heart fluttered in excitement. However, when he looked again, he realized with dismay that it was only the light reflecting off someone's watch. With great effort, he pulled himself together and resumed the search.

"Zabini scores again," Seamus announced, loudly. Harry struggled not to glance in Ron's direction, tuning the background noise out to concentrate on his frantic search, eyes darting about to watch for bludgers.

He caught sight of another glint and jerked his head upward to look. This time it was the snitch, floating lazily above their heads. In a blur, it moved in front of the sun and he lost sight of it. With baited breath, he scanned the general area, hoping to pick up its trajectory, but wasn't having any luck.

"Right there, right there," he heard someone in the crowd yelling. He followed their pointing and saw the snitch about twenty feet off the ground. With little thought, he rushed forward. Malfoy moved to follow him some feet away.

The snitch attempted to evade them both by zigzagging close to the field. Harry's toes brushed against blades of grass as he rushed after it. Malfoy pulled up alongside him with a determined look upon his face. The snitch angled upwards, gaining altitude.

Harry gritted his teeth as he hunkered down closer to his broom and struggled to maintain a lead. Malfoy's broom was just too fast – even with his smaller frame, he was losing ground rapidly.

When the snitch was about fifty feet off the ground it took a dive, stopping abruptly in front of Madame Hooch. Malfoy plummeted after it with Harry hot on his heels. They both were flying straight at Madame Hooch. Madame Hooch attempted to dodge to the left, but it was too late. The blond was simply going too fast; he slammed into her, instantly becoming entangled in flailing limbs.

Harry pulled up at the last second and watched the snitch change directions. He spared them a quick glance and went after it. The snitch tried evasive maneuvering again, but Harry faultlessly pursued it, closing the distance rapidly. He placed one hand on his broom to steady himself and the other hand reached out, quickly clasping the struggling snitch.

Sound immediately returned. "...AND HE'S GOT IT, HE'S GOT THE SNITCH. GRYFFINDOR HAS WON 150 TO 130! WOW, THAT WAS A CLOSE GAME!" Seamus shouted in excitement.

Harry landed on the field, snitch in hand, feeling a bit dizzy from the wash of relief that overcame him. Bodies flooded across the field from all sides, swallowing him whole.

"We won, we won, we won," Ginny was jumping up and down with glee. She shoved through the gathering crowd and hugged him tightly.

"I could kiss you," she cried and to his surprise she did.

Harry was momentarily taken aback. Her eyes were dancing with mirth. He studied her expression closely and there didn't seem to be any ulterior motives. She was just excited. He breathed a sigh of relief and let himself get caught up in the moment too.

The crowd continued to swell around him. Before he knew it, he had been hoisted up above everyone's head and was being carried back to Gryffindor Tower.

  <<<<<    >>>>>  

Ron lagged behind the rest of them, a dejected expression on his face. Hermione sidled up alongside him and placed her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I almost lost us the game," his voice cracked as he turned in her direction. His eyes shone bright with the threat of tears.

"It's okay," she soothed. "We just weren't a match for their speed. Look on the bright side though – we still won."

He stiffened at her words, expression dark. "Only thanks to Harry," he spat bitterly.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. After a long silence, she felt hot tears landing on her shoulder, his body was shaking in her arms. She tightened her grip on him.

"Is this the way it's always going to be?" he cried in a muffled voice. "When it comes time for Harry to face off against...against..." He choked back a sob, unable to say what they both were thinking. "Is he going to have to do that alone too?"

Hermione's heart ached for her boyfriend. For once in her life, she didn't have the answer. All she could do was hold him tight, tears stinging her eyes as well.

Watching Harry place distance between himself and everyone else had been hard. She understood why he was doing it. He didn't want to lose another person that he cared about. On the other hand, just because she understood didn't mean she had to accept it. She was angry with him for not considering their feelings. He had no right to make that decision alone. They were going to see this through to the bitter end, even though it would break her heart to do so.

She gripped Ron tighter and let out a choking sob. It wasn't fair – the prophecy, everything – it just wasn't fair.

 <<<<<    >>>>>  

Draco untangled himself from Madame Hooch in a huff, stalking across the field to pick up his wayward broom. Someone had sabotaged him. At the last minute, his broom stopped responding to his commands. What hurt the most was the realization that it had not been any of the Gryffindors – that wasn't their typical MO. The betrayal had to have come from within his own house. But why? Who hated him so much that they were willing to ruin everything just to hurt him?

Harry was being paraded off the field with much fanfare. Draco thought he was going to be sick. That should have been him. He was almost there. It just wasn't fair.

The sound of an anguished wail caught his attention. Draco brightened as he caught sight of the red-headed Gryffindor sobbing in his girlfriend's arms. At least Draco could be happy about one thing – he wasn't making such a pitifully disgusting scene. With head held just a bit higher, he returned to the dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first read Trelawney’s prophecy, I totally misinterpreted it. I thought that the word choice implied that they both had to die. I was miserably depressed. So, this is sort of a what-if? What if the only way to defeat Voldemort was to sacrifice himself? Now you get to experience my misery.


	7. Of Pain and Tears

Harry awoke, gasping for breath. His scar was throbbing painfully, but there was nothing he could do about it. Since Voldemort's return, it always hurt. Add to that, his nightmares were becoming more frequent and unsettling, so going back to sleep was out of the question. Not relishing the idea of sitting around waiting for the pain to subside and the sun to rise, he decided to go for a walk. Something about prowling around the school at night really helped him clear his head.

His invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map were both tucked safely under his bed. As with most things he did, it was impossible for him to extricate them silently. He grunted as he lifted the corner of the mattress and glanced around the room cautiously to see that no one had heard. Neville shifted and rolled over in his sleep but didn't wake. He let out a sigh of relief and finished retrieving them. He really needed to find a better hiding place for these things – somewhere even he could get to quietly.

Map in hand and cloak around his shoulders, he padded silently across the room and out the dorms.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to not good," he whispered, lightly tapping the map with his wand. The ink spidered out across the parchment, slowly taking distinguishable shapes.

Mr. Filch was on the third floor and Mrs. Norris, his trusty devil-spawn of a cat, was on the first floor. His heart fluttered happily as he realized he had a clear shot to the grounds for a midnight stroll under the moonlight. 

As he was about to fold up the map, another name, one leaving the dungeons caught his eye - Draco Malfoy. He worried his bottom lip with he teeth, watching as the name moved hesitantly down the hall. What was Draco doing out of his bed after hours? Certainly nothing good.

Harry glanced back up the stairs leading to the dormitory, wondering if he should wake Ron up and see what he thought, but ultimately, he decided against it with an emphatic shake of his head. His best friend had returned to the dorm rather late, his eyes red and puffy from crying. Ron needed his time and space to get over the sting of disappointment he no doubt felt after their match against Slytherin. Chasing elusive enemies in the middle of the night was the last thing he needed right now. No, he'd have to figure this out on his own.

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he tracked Malfoy's movement. Standing there was solving nothing; the flames of curiosity were scorching through him. When it became apparent that Malfoy was heading for the Forbidden Forest, he quickly made up his mind, rushing to catch up with the boy to see what he was up to. There was absolutely nothing about this situation that made any sense; Malfoy was terrified of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry's heart was fluttering wildly in his chest as he tore across the courtyard. With eyes straining, he could just make out Malfoy's form at the edge of the forest. Harry quickened his pace to close the distance. If he lost him in the forbidden forest, the map would be of little use.

After several minutes of struggling through thick underbrush in pursuit of the blond, Malfoy came to an abrupt stop just inside a clearing. Harry hunkered down to observe him, making a concerted effort to quiet his breathing.

 <<<<<    >>>>>

Draco glanced about the clearing nervously. This was the last place on earth that he wanted to be, but his father had summoned him, and he dared not ignore that summons. Disobeying his father had consequences. The sound of snapping branches startled him as Lucius Malfoy entered the clearing, studying his son with a pained expression on his face.

"I'm sorry." Malfoy started, his chest tight with apprehension. "Someone..."

"I know," his father interrupted, lifting his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, not giving him a chance to properly explain the sabotage.

"If it was just Quidditch..." he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. They were both aware that someone was working to discredit Draco – and possibly the whole Malfoy family.

"I don't have to remind you that we're in a very difficult predicament right now," his father continued, dropping his hand to his side to fix him with a pointed expression. "I'm afraid that you don't fully appreciate the gravity of the situation. You don't have the luxury of acting like a child anymore. You need to grow up and start acting like a Malfoy."

Draco nodded, eyes fixed on the ground, unable to look his father in the eyes. If he did, he wasn't sure he would be able to keep his emotions in check. This was not the first time he had been reminded of the fact that he was failing to live up to his family's prestigious name.

"What you do effects the whole of the Malfoy family," his father continued. "When you make a fool of yourself, you place everything in jeopardy – our position with the Dark Lord, our social standing in the wizarding community..." He let out a long sigh.

Neither spoke for a long time. Draco's stomach twisted itself into uncomfortable knots as he struggled to find a solution to this problem.

"If it will make things easier," Draco suggested, a sinking feeling settling in his chest as he spoke, "I can quit the team."

His father tensed, studying him with a pained expression. "You're missing the point completely," he growled through gritted teeth. "This isn't a game anymore. You have to understand that if we show any weakness..." He trailed off, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint as he drew his wand and pointed it threateningly at Draco.

" _ Crucio _ ," he intoned coldly.

Draco was unprepared for the shock of pain that ripped through his body as he crashed to the ground with a strangled scream.

"This," his father gestured angrily with his wand. In response, Draco convulsed in agony. "This is just a taste of what is in store for you. Being my son won't keep you safe forever – not if we lose."

Draco couldn't breathe, couldn't think, time lost all meaning. His whole existence was consumed by white-hot pain. After what felt like an eternity, the spell was lifted, leaving him shaking on the ground, tears stinging his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I hope you remember this lesson well," Lucius whispered tenderly, breath hot on his face. He brushed loose hair out of Draco's eyes before he stood with a resolute expression on his face. 

"We have a lot riding on you," he reminded before disappearing into the shadows of the forest. 

With great difficulty, Draco slowed his breathing and composed himself, his jaw set in a grim expression as he pulled himself up and dusted the dirt off his robes. His father's message was clear – stop fucking shit up. He strode purposefully back to the castle, pointedly ignoring the ache in his muscles. He needed to get back and figure out who the hell was working against him. There would be no second chances.

 <<<<<    >>>>>

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, fighting against the tears that were threatening to fall as Malfoy walked past his hiding place. His heart felt heavy. There were too many painful memories – memories that he was fighting to repress - that had been triggered watching that. 

With deep steadying breaths, he forced his thoughts into order. What should he do? He was beginning to understand why Malfoy was who he was, the burden that his family had placed on him. That didn't excuse his behavior, just helped explain it. It wasn't like anything had changed – he was still a Death Eater's son. He couldn't let sympathy cloud good judgement. Malfoy wouldn't hesitate to ruin him if the opportunity presented itself. But still...

With a sigh, he stood up and made his way back to the castle, a guilty feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach. It wasn't like him to ignore someone in need, but the situation was complicated. Malfoy was the enemy and he couldn't let himself forget it.

Once at the Fat Lady's portrait, he took off his invisibility cloak, and muttered the password. His heart launched itself into his throat as the portrait swung wide, revealing a very angry looking Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter," she snapped, her eyes full of disapproval. "I thought you would have learned by now that students are not allowed to be wandering the halls at all hours of the night, especially after having been caught on numerous occasions beforehand and severely reprimanded."

"What are you doing here?" Harry blurted without thinking, heart fluttering wildly in his chest once it had settled back into place.

Her face reddened at his tone. "If you must know, I was coming here to get you. Headmaster Dumbledore just arrived back and wishes to speak with you. He said that you would still be awake."

Harry's brow creased in confusion. It was strange how the Headmaster always knew things that he shouldn't.

The severe expression never left Professor McGonagall's face as she studied him.

"Don't think for an instant that this means that you are getting out of trouble. You will be serving your detention next Wednesday with Professor Hagrid. My hope is that you will finally realize that you can't continue as if the rules don't apply to you."

Harry lowered his head solemnly, hoping that he looked sufficiently apologetic. He had no intention of changing his behavior, but he did intend to be more careful next time. "I'm sorry, Professor," he mumbled.

She studied him for a long while, gauging the sincerity of his words before letting out a resigned sigh. "Very well," she replied. "If you will follow me – the Headmaster is waiting for you."

He followed a few steps behind, never letting the apologetic expression leave his face. His mind was turning in circles trying to figure out what would cause Dumbledore to summon him at this hour of night. He was beginning to feel a little sick with apprehension. Nothing good ever comes from impromptu visits with the Headmaster in the middle of the night.

They stopped in front of the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Ice Mice," she intoned, glancing briefly in Harry's direction.

Professor McGonagall indicated that he should go on up before walking briskly down the hall in the opposite direction without saying a word. He was left alone. After a few deep breathes, he made his way up the stairs, pausing at the door in trepidation. It was quite a while before he worked up the nerve to open it.

Now would be the perfect time for him to tell Headmaster Dumbledore about Malfoy, but when he stepped inside he couldn't seem to find the words. They had flown away along with all his Gryffindor courage.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore exclaimed, looking up with a half-hearted smile. He had been unable to smile properly at Harry since their last conversation - the conversation in which Dumbledore had explained Trelawney's prophecy and the price he had to pay. It was the same with most everyone who knew – like they were all preparing for his funeral but hiding it with a brave face.

"I have just returned from a meeting with The Order. Remus wanted to know how you were handling things. He also wondered if it would be alright if he stayed here with you for the Holidays. I hope you haven't already made plans?"

Again, Harry found himself floundering for the right words. He didn't want to see Remus - couldn't bring himself to see him. Sirius' death still weighed heavy on his soul. Seeing him would only make things worse – make the nightmares worse.

"Sorry," he lied, carefully avoiding Dumbledore's sad eyes. "I already made plans with Ron and Hermione."

"I see," Dumbledore replied, the tone of his voice heavy with disappointment. "I'll let him know."

Harry nodded, taking that as his cue to leave. The walls were rapidly closing in on him and he couldn't stand to be there a moment longer. He strode purposely towards the door without saying another word.

"He will be most disappointed." Harry winced at Dumbledore's words, but continued moving. If he stopped now...

"And Harry," he inquired. "How are you handling things?"

His breath caught in his throat, he swallowed against the painful lump forming there. A vision of dark, hateful eyes boring into him flashed through his mind.

"I'm doing fine," he lied without turning around.

"Harry..." Dumbledore started to say, but Harry ignored him. He was already crossing the threshold, closing the door behind him as he left. The air was stifling in there. He needed to get out. He couldn't breathe anymore. 

He ran down the stairs and turned the corner, his vision blurring as tears stung at his eyes. Once far enough away, he allowed himself to collapse against the wall and fall to pieces, loud choking sobs wracking his small frame. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't hold it all in. It wasn't fair.


	8. In Denial

"Harry, that's horrible. You should have told a teacher immediately," Hermione scolded.

After deliberating for several days, Harry had decided to tell his two best friends about the incident with Malfoy. He knew that the longer he waited, the harder it was going to get. He needed to get it off his chest.

"Yeah," Ron added. "I don't necessarily like the git, but that is kind of horrible. Damnit Harry, you're making it hard for me to properly hate him."

Harry gave them both a pained expression. "I know, I know. I should have told Professor McGonagall that night, but... I didn't... I mean..." he trailed off with a sigh, struggling to articulate his feelings on the matter when he hadn't even made up his mind yet how he should feel. "Draco is hardly a little kid anymore. If he wanted help... I just don't think it's my place to get involved."

"What do you mean 'It's not your place to get involved,' Harry?" Hermione's tone was sharp and her disapproving eyes were burning a hole to the very center of his being. "You can't possibly believe that? Headmaster Dumbledore needs to know."

Ron rolled his eyes with an easygoing smirk on his face, "Didn't see that coming."

She glared at him before turning back to Harry. "I'm serious," she continued. "You should tell the Headmaster, he'll know what to do."

Harry considered her words, a sick feeling settling in his stomach as he remembered his last talk with Dumbledore and how much time it took to pull himself back together. "I don't want to talk to him," he replied darkly.

They both studied him carefully. Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?" she inquired.

Harry felt his chest begin to tighten with dread. He knew he couldn't go back there. "I just don't, all right?" he snarled, gripping his fork with enough force to bend it.

"Fine," Hermione conceded, "Then at least tell Professor McGonagall."

Harry recalled her angry face from a few nights ago. If he told her now, after three days – he shook his head at the idea. It didn't fill him with the quite the same feeling of dread, but still... "I can't," he muttered, burning up with shame at just how useless he felt.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione admonished. "How can you be so heartless? I understand that you hate Malfoy, we all do, but that is not a good enough reason to be such a coward. Now you are going to march your butt into Professor McGonagall's office and tell her what you saw. If she gets angry with you, then just man up and take your lumps. Malfoy is going to get himself killed if we don't intercede. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Harry hung his head in defeat. Hermione did have a point – Malfoy may be the enemy, but Harry didn't want to see him dead. He'd been involved in enough deaths.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll tell her when I'm done with breakfast. Now will you please just drop this."

He ate a few more bites of his breakfast, plate still half-full, before heading off to Professor McGonagall's office.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?" she inquired as he entered, scrutinizing him with a calculating expression.

His resolve wavered briefly, but Hermione's angry voice in his head goaded him into action. He didn't want to see another person dead if he could prevent it. He shuffled across the room and sank into the chair in front of her desk, eyes downcast.

"Professor, about the other night..." he trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"You better not be trying to get out of your detention tomorrow," she scolded, misinterpreting his intentions.

"No, I'm not." Harry replied, vehemently shaking his head at the accusation. "It's just that... well... I saw something."

Her eyebrow arched slightly as she waited for him to continue. Once he started to relay the story, the words just flowed. He felt an odd sense of emotional detachment to the situation, like a wall had been formed between himself and those events.

A small gasp escaped Professor McGonagall's mouth, eyes wide and alarmed. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I wanted to, but..." he shrugged, shifting awkwardly under her accusing glare. "I was still kind of shocked and you were so mad at me..."

"And Headmaster Dumbledore?" she prodded.

Harry's eyes darted away. He didn't want to admit that he had run away like a coward from the man the first chance he got. "It slipped my mind," he lied.

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she considered his words.

"Slipped your mind," she muttered with a disapproving shake of her head. "I'll have to inform his Head of House immediately."

Harry nodded at his lap, his nerves settling slightly. He had done his part. Now he could go back to dodging the well-intentioned suspicions of his friends.

"I am most disappointed in you, Mr. Potter," she informed him. "If Lucius Malfoy had caught you that night – well, I don't think I need to tell you what could have happened. You have got to stop putting yourself in danger. You're just a boy. Let the adults figure this stuff out."

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach at her words. Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't told her. If only it were that easy – just run around enjoying life like a normal teen, not a care in the world – but he couldn't do that. No adult was going to be able to protect him. That wasn't life.

"I understand," he mumbled, getting up to leave her office.

  <<<<<    >>>>>  

Malfoy entered the office wondering why Professor Snape had summoned him during breakfast.

"Malfoy," Snape acknowledged him coolly. "Potter has just informed us that he saw your father placing you under the Cruciatus Curse a few nights ago. The two of you were discussing his expectations of you. Care to enlighten me?"

Draco started to pale, but he caught himself. He knew he had to step up his game – think like a Malfoy.

"Oh really," he drawled with a forced chuckle. "Our little friend certainly does love his stories. I guess it's because he never had a mother to tell him that lying was wrong."

Snape studied him carefully.

"Come on," Draco snorted in mock disbelief. "You don't honestly think my father would risk everything by doing something so stupid, do you?"

"No," the man replied dubiously.

Draco withstood Professor Snape's intense scrutiny, his mask held firmly in place. He would not fail his father this time. The man eventually sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping forward.

"You're free to go," he conceded. Draco wasn't sure if Professor Snape believed him or not.

"And Draco," he offered. "If you ever want to talk..."

Draco nodded and left as quickly as possible. He was furious with himself for not noticing that he was being followed. How had Harry, the least stealthy person at Hogwarts, managed to spy on them? Not only that, but he had informed the professors. Their increased suspicion would make things difficult.

Draco growled in frustration when he realized he would have to dirty his hands on this one. He needed to send Potter a very clear message.


	9. Captured

Draco stalked down the hall in an angry huff, glaring at everyone he passed. He had enough on his plate already without Potter meddling in his affairs.

A plan was beginning to take shape. Potter had remedial potions with Professor Snape every Tuesday. It would be the perfect opportunity for him to catch the boy without his fan club. Tonight's lesson on manners was long overdue.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry entered the common room with stooped shoulders and a weary expression. He felt emotionally drained and he was dreading Occulmency later that night.

"So," Hermione started, glancing up from the book she had been reading. "What did Professor McGonagall have to say about Malfoy?"

"She told Professor Snape about it," Harry replied with a shrug.

"And?" Hermione pressed.

"And Malfoy denied the whole thing," Harry replied, desperately wanting to change the subject.

"Why would he do something like that?" Hermione exclaimed in surprise. "He's being threatened. He should let the professors help him."

"How should I know," he grumbled. "Maybe he wants to deal with this on his own. He's got his pride to consider after all. Either way, it isn't our problem anymore. If he doesn't want our help, then we should stay out of it."

She gave him a disparaging look and opened her mouth to admonish him. Harry abruptly cut her off – he was done with being a source of disappointment for the day.

"I'm going upstairs to take a nap," he snapped. He didn't wait for her response before trudging up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Occulmency. Harry's most hated subject, but quitting wasn't an option. If he had learned it right the first time, then Sirius would still be alive. He had no more excuses to make.

He picked himself up off the ground once more and took a steadying breath.

"Shall we try again?" Professor Snape asked in a condescending tone.

Harry nodded his acceptance. He struggled to clear his mind, but didn't do it fast enough. That memory kept bubbling to the surface, it was flashing in his mind even as Snape began the incantation.

He was back there again.

It was recess and 10-year-old Harry was sitting against a wall, all alone. Dudley was home sick that day, so the group of boys that normally tormented him were preoccupied with a rousing game of basketball instead.

After a while, Piers approached him. "Hey Harry, you want to play with us?"

Harry peered at the boy with a hopeful expression on his face. "You want me to play?"

"Sure," Piers replied, throwing the ball at Harry's face. "Catch."

Behind Piers, the other boys snickered. Harry didn't notice them as he narrowly avoided getting struck by the ball. Piers ran after it.

"Don't you even know how to catch?" he inquired, walking back towards Harry with ball in hand. He threw it again.

This time, Harry caught it. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I wasn't ready before," he explained.

When neither boy moved, Piers sighed in exasperation. "Well, go on then." He gestured towards the end of the court. "Try and make the shot."

Harry nodded, dribbling the ball experimentally a few times before edging towards the basket. He was picking up speed when out of nowhere, one of the larger boys slammed into him, sending him sprawling. He hit the pavement - hard.

Dennis towered over him, smirking. "Sorry about that. You're so tiny that I just didn't see you there."

Harry stood up, ignoring the sting in his hands and knees. He should have known better than to think that they actually wanted to play with him. This was just a new way to torture him, but it wasn't like he had a choice now. If he stopped, they would just try something else.

Piers shrugged, stooping to pick up the ball. "Rough game – basketball. How bout you try again?" he encouraged, tossing Harry the ball.

Harry made for the hoop once more. As he was setting himself up for the shot, Dennis shoulder-checked him. He found himself laid out on the pavement once more. The other boys snickered behind their hands. Harry's face hardened in resolve. He pushed himself up and evaluated the situation.

Piers picked up the ball and the rest of the boys came off the sidelines to join the game. As he was passing the ball to Stanley, Harry darted in and intercepted it. He smiled back triumphantly before being tackled from behind, losing his grip on the ball. Harry hit the ground hard, his shoulder taking the brunt of his weight.

He wanted to quit, but he knew it would only make things worse. He stood up, dusted himself off and went after the ball again. It seemed irrational that he should continue trying so hard, but some sort of animal instinct had taken over.

Dennis was about to shoot, but Harry made a grab for it, getting an elbow in the face instead. His lip cut on his teeth and he felt blood slowly dribble down his chin. He wiped his face on his sleeve and went back for more.

Harry made another attempt at the ball, colliding with Piers' back when the boy moved to block him. The impact threw off his balance and he fell backwards. The pavement dug painfully into his already wounded hands. As he stood, he blew on them to relieve some of the sting.

He made another attempt. Dennis blocked his path. Everywhere Harry tried to move, one of the boys would block him. In frustration, Harry charged at the nearest boy, slamming his uninjured shoulder into the boy's chest. Stanley pulled away in shock.

"The little fag just tried to feel me up," he cried indignantly.

Harry's scowl darkened. "I did not."

The other boys laughed mockingly before continuing their game.

With a glare, Harry jumped right back into the thick of things. They continued playing rough. Pushing and shoving him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Harry was undeterred; he kept getting back up with a defiant glare. His hands and knees were torn and bleeding, his lip busted, his body bruised and beaten, sweat stung various wounds.

He should give up, but the thought was buried quickly. If he did, they would win.

Stanley positioned himself to shoot. Harry appeared in front of him, blocking his way. Stanley dropped the ball, shoving Harry down with his now free hands. Harry landed flat on his back – the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for breath.

All eyes were on him. He caught sight of the ball rolling a few feet away. Fast as lightning, Harry lunged for it, wrapping his body around it protectively.

They crowded around him, considering their options. Harry's pride would not let him give up the ball.

"Come on, Harry." Piers implored. "You won't like what'll happen to you if you don't give it back."

Harry didn't respond. Piers kicked him experimentally in the ribs. He chocked back a painful sob but refused to relinquish his prize. In frustration, the rest of the boys joined in, raining down blows on his tender ribs.

Suddenly, Harry was back on the dungeon floor, panting, and feeling slightly nauseous.

"Why do you feel the need to get us stuck in that particular memory?" Snape sneered.

"Stuck?" Harry cried indignantly. "Oh, like I really want you to see that humiliating spectacle over and over again."

"Then explain to me why neither of us could escape?" Snape replied, eyebrow raised slightly.

"I don't know," Harry sputtered, standing up and gripping a table as the room swayed.

Snape studied the boy coldly for a moment. "Fine," the man spat. "That's enough for tonight. I'm sick of looking at you."

Harry nodded gratefully. The door seemed so far away. The room refused to stop spinning. Knowing he couldn't stay there all night, he took a shaky breath to calm himself and put one foot in front of the other. Once outside, he leaned against the wall to regain his composure. He just needed a moment to recover. Despite the cold air, he felt overly warm.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco was like a snake lying in wait. He heard footsteps leaving the classroom and readied himself for the attack. Abruptly, the footsteps came to a stop and he heard a loud thump. The silence stretched endlessly. Curiosity piqued, he peered around the corner. Potter was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, face flushed.

Draco pulled his head back and considered his options. Potter couldn't stand there all night. He would have to start moving eventually, but Draco was growing impatient.

After what seemed like an eternity, Potter spoke. "Malfoy, you can come out now. I know you're there."

Growling, he stepped around the corner and approached the smaller boy.

"How did you figure it out?"

"Your angry breathing gave you away," Harry replied with a half-hearted smirk.

Draco glared at him, pulling out his wand, and pointing it at the boy's face. Rather than look scared Harry just raised an eyebrow and gave him an unfathomable look that set Draco's nerves on edge.

"What are you planning on doing?" Harry asked evenly.

Draco smirked.

" _Petrificus Totalus_."

Harry fell to the ground with a strangled yelp. His muscles tensed, his breathing restricted.

"It's time to teach you a lesson, Potter."


	10. Tortured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a brief torture scene. If that is something that bothers you, I suggest reading something different. Things will only get worse - lots of violence, torture, bullying, gore, and death in the future. It makes me so sad.

****Harry was unceremoniously dropped to the floor of an empty classroom, his shoulder painfully striking the ground. Malfoy cast a few silencing wards before grinning maniacally down at him.

Harry struggled against the ropes magically binding his hands, but it was to no avail. Without his wand and the use of his limbs he was at the mercy of a very angry looking Slytherin who was now once again pointing his wand at him. Harry's eyes widened in alarm.

"Now that I have you, what will I do with you?" the blond pondered aloud. "How about teaching you to mind your own fucking business?"

"Malfoy," Harry struggled to keep his voice steady, "you don't want to do this."

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously as he kicked Harry in the gut – hard. Harry struggled to catch his breath against the pain.

"I think I should have done this a long time ago," Malfoy continued, smirking at Harry's pained expression.

"Malfoy, please" he gasped. "I'm sorry that..."

"You're sorry!?" the boy replied in mock disbelief, hand pressed to his chest for dramatic effect. "Sorry for what!? Poking your nose into shit that doesn't involve you? Spying on me?"

"That's the problem with you hero-types," he spat, pointing his wand at Harry once again. "You never know when to leave well enough alone. I think it's about time you learned."

Malfoy's hand shook as he leveled his wand at Harry, swallowing nervously. " _Crucio_ ," he intoned uncertainly.

Harry's muscles tensed, a small whimper escaped his throat. The pain wasn't as intense as he remembered it. It was by no means pleasant, but he got the distinct impression that Malfoy's heart just wasn't in it. A proper Cruciatus Curse required intent to be effective.

Frowning at the lack of effect, Malfoy removed the curse. Harry let out a sigh of relief. They studied each other for a long while, neither speaking.

"If it weren't for you..." Malfoy trailed off bitterly, choking on his words. His expression hardened, grey eyes turning bright as he struggled with his thoughts.

"You ruin everything," he snarled, hot angry tears began rolling down his cheeks.

"I've hated you for as long as I can remember. Because of you... because of you....," Malfoy's breathing was ragged, his emotions appeared tumultuous. "I WISH YOU'D NEVER BEEN BORN. I WISH YOU'D JUST DIE ALREADY!"

" _CRUCIO!!!_ " he screamed furiously.

The force of the spell slammed into him. His sharp intake of breath quickly distorted itself into a tortured scream. The pain was intense, like his very bones were shattering, his muscles shredded to pieces. He curled in on himself and struggled to breath, struggled to remain conscious. Dark spots obscured his vision. When the pain finally stopped he was acutely aware of the sheen of sweat that was covering his body. He shivered against the chill that was setting in.

The blond took a step closer and Harry flinched instinctively, expecting another sharp kick to the side – none came. Harry peeked up at the boy from under sweaty bangs. Malfoy was shaking as he fell to his knees in front of him. "I hate you, I hate you," he whispered repeatedly between chocking sobs.

Harry became aware of the fact that he could move again. Like a wounded animal, he sat up, scooting towards the far wall, pulling his knees to his chest protectively as he watched Malfoy. The boy appeared conflicted, expression flitting between rage and sorrow until he was finally spent. With a deep breath he stood, composing himself. He shot Harry a sinister glare.

"If you tell anyone..." He left the rest of the threat unspoken before walking away.

Harry let out a relieved sigh, tension draining from his body as he rested his head against the wall. Today had been a long and miserable day. He decided to just sit there and die for a while.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Ron was struggling to pull himself away from Hermione, hands tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, his body aching with need. If he didn't leave now – things were going to get out of hand.

"I should go," Ron explained, a hungry look still in his eyes. "Harry's probably up there waiting for me and..."

"I understand," she replied in a husky voice that made him melt. "I should really get going too."

He drew her in for another long passionate kiss, body pressed against hers. She was so warm. When the kiss broke, they pulled away, staring into each other's eyes, faces flushed, breathing heavy. They desperately needed to put an end to this before...

"Okay, on the count of three," Ron suggested, face resolute.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"One – two – three."

They both turned away from one another, refusing to look back in case they lost their resolve. It was getting harder and harder for them to stop themselves from getting carried away. One of these days...

Ron marched to the boy's dormitory, pushing dangerous thoughts from his mind. When he got to the top of the stairs, the room was quiet – too quiet. Gulping, he opened the door and looked around. Dean and Seamus were looking at a dirty magazine that they had procured over the summer and Neville was staring blankly at his Potions homework, they didn't even so much as glance at him as he entered. He had been expecting their usual teasing.

Alarmingly enough, Harry was nowhere to be seen. He should have been back from his Occlumency lessons hours ago. His friend's absence made him nervous and soon nervousness gave way to dread. Since Harry had skipped out on dinner today, he wasn't sure when anybody had last seen him.

Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, Ron dug under Harry's mattress until his hands encountered the folded-up parchment he was searching for.

"I'll be back," he announced to the room. "I think I left something with Hermione."

The boys turned to smirk at him knowingly, perhaps thinking that he was sneaking off to the astronomy tower to meet up with Hermione.

"Just don't get caught," Dean warned.

Ron nodded and took off down the stairs, leaving his roommates to their dirty speculations.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned, touching his wand to the parchment.

Ink began to spread from the center, forming the castle and its grounds. His eyes frantically tore across the page until he found what he was looking for. Harry was unmoving in an abandoned classroom near the dungeons. He scanned the rest of the map to plan the safest route and took off.

Worry was eating away at him, but he pushed it down with much effort. It was entirely possible that Professor Snape had changed the location of their lesson. Unfortunately, that still didn't explain why Harry was alone. In his heart, he knew something was wrong.

Finally, the dungeon came into view. He flew down the hallway and burst into the empty room. Harry was sitting with his head resting against the far wall, his knees pulled to his chest, his eyes closed, and face flushed. He did not look well.

"What happened?" he sputtered in surprise.

Harry opened his eyes to stare dazedly at him from under tousled bangs.

"Malfoy," he mumbled, but didn't elaborate.

Ron bristled at the revelation. Whatever Malfoy had done – well Harry looked half-dead.

"That prick – I'll kill him," he growled in frustration.

Harry fixed Ron with a very serious expression and shook his head.

"It's fine," he explained weakly. "He was just frustrated."

"But he... he..." Ron cried in indignation, trailing off when he realized he wasn't certain what had actually happened.

Harry briefly shook his head again, stopping when it looked like he was going to be sick.

"It wasn't like that," he insisted.

Ron studied his friend with a dubious expression. Harry gave him a pleading look, begging with his eyes for him to drop the subject. Ron decided to let it go for now, but he was going to get some answers eventually. That is, after he shoveled half the food in the castle down his friend's throat for having missed dinner. Harry was wasting away right before their very eyes.

"Let's go back," Harry suggested tiredly. "I feel like shit."

Ron chuckled weakly. "You look like shit."

Harry stood up, wincing slightly, his body swaying. Ron rushed to his side wrapping his arm around his best friend to steady him. He could feel the heat pouring off the boy.

"I think we should take you to the infirmary first," Ron's suggested in concern.

Harry shook his head in protest. "Just need – sleep."

Against his best judgement, he gave into Harry's wishes. It was no use arguing with the boy when he had made up his mind about something. They slowly made their way back to the dorms. The further they got, the more Harry was relying on Ron to stay standing. By the time they got there, Ron was practically carrying Harry. If he wasn't better by morning, Ron was determined to drag him to the infirmary – pride be damned.

"It's a good thing you're light," he growled as he lowered Harry to his bed.

Neville looked like he wanted to ask a billion questions, but Ron shook his head in warning.

Harry let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep quickly. Ron studied his friend for a long while, wondering if he had made the right decisions tonight.


	11. Riverwalk

The next morning Harry crawled out of bed, his body stiff, his throat sore, reminding him of last night's little adventure with Malfoy. His sleep had been restless and twice he had awoken in a cold sweat. Despite all that, he was feeling infinitely better than he had last night.

Ron was just beginning to stir as morning approached, still struggling to cling to unconsciousness and failing miserably.

"What time is it?" Ron asked with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"A little passed seven."

The red-head groaned, mumbling something about sleep and stupid parakeets.

"I take it you had unsettling dreams as well?" Harry asked, smirking at his friend.

Ron nodded in response, still attempting to become one with the waking world.

"Since I'm up," Harry announced with a resigned expression. "I might as well get started on the homework that I didn't finish last night."

Ron groaned at the mention of it before glancing at Harry with a thoughtful look.

"You think Hermione will take pity on us both and let us copy?"

He shrugged uncertainly. "It can't hurt to ask," he replied as he made his way to the bathroom to start his day.

Harry could feel Ron's suspicious eyes on his back. Breakfast was going to be a tedious affair. He could tell that Ron was in full-blown mother-hen mode now.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"Today we will be learnin' how ter detect an' remove chizpurfles from magical creatures," Hagrid announced in a dispassionate tone. His usual enthusiasm when discussing magical creatures had been decidedly lacking all year. Hagrid looked exhausted. Harry had been meaning to ask the man about it, but with school and everything else, he kept getting sidetracked.

His classmates sighed in relief – chizpurfles were a safe subject. While it had been a while since they had faced off against a creature that Professor Hagrid had insisted was 'safe and friendly,' most students still attended each lesson with a lot of trepidation. Their luck couldn't hold out forever.

Professor Hagrid continued discussing the finer points of chizpurfle detection before trailing off into a prolonged silence. He took in his surroundings with an angry scowl.

"Well," he cried. "What are yeh waitin' fer?"

The students stared back at him as if he had gone mental.

"You haven't given us any instructions, you dolt," Malfoy snarled.

Harry unintentionally tensed at the sound of the blonde's voice. He had decided to let the incident with Malfoy slide, but clearly, he wasn't over it yet. Ron eyed him in concern.

"Oh...um," Hagrid struggled for words, flustered by the embarrassing situation.

"Each of yeh is ter grab a box from o'er there," he waved his hand towards the side of the hut. "Follow the instructions in yer book abou' detectin' chizpurfles, an' then try ter remove them from the creature contained in yer box. When yer done, bring 'em ter me an' I'll give yeh yer grade."

The students nodded apprehensively. Chizpurfles they could handle, but chizpurfles on an unknown creature made them wary. With a fair amount of caution, they moved towards the boxes that were stacked against the wall of the hut.

Hagrid pulled Harry aside as he was passing.

"McGonagall just informed me that yeh have detention wif me tonight," he stated.

Harry nodded. He had almost forgotten about the detention he had received. It had seemed so long ago.

"Shame on yeh, walkin' aroun' the castle all alone at night." He shook his head in disappointment. "Who knows what coulda happened to yeh?"

Harry hung his head as he had done with Professor McGonagall. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal. If Voldemort was able to get into the castle, he didn't see how staying in his room would make any difference. One way or another, the man would find him. He choked down his true feelings on the situation.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again."

"It better not," the giant warned before walking back to oversee the proceedings.

Harry followed a good distance behind and got his own box from the stack. He could already tell that today was going to be another long day.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry neared Hagrid's hut, clutching his cloak tightly to his body as he shivered. It was early November; the smell of winter was strong, and a fine mist hung in the air. He kept glancing up wondering why it wasn't frozen. Why drizzle when it felt like it should be flurries? He was freezing.

The fever that he had noticed after Occlumency lessons had come and gone throughout the day. The sore throat that he had at first attributed to the screaming he had done the night before had only worsened. By dinner time, he was miserable. There wasn't much he could do about it though. If he tried to bring it up, Professor McGonagall would assume he was using Fever Fudge to get out of detention. Then he'd be sick, but with an extra day of detention as an added bonus. He just needed to push through the night and then sleep forever.

As he approached, three shapes were barely distinguishable through the haze – Hagrid, Fang, and another boy – Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" he grumbled. It was just his luck.

"Detention, what else?" the blond retorted haughtily.

They stared each other down for a moment, Draco occasionally glancing at Fang in distaste.

Hagrid cleared his throat, drawing their attention to him. He scanned their faces before nodding to himself as if coming to a decision.

"I think yer both are old enough ter handle yerselves out in the woods," he stated matter-of-factly.

Draco narrowed his eyes mistrustfully. "What do you mean by that?"

"That I can trust yeh ter take care of yerselves and not get killed," the giant replied as if that were explanation enough.

Draco scrunched up his nose in disgust. Harry shivered slightly under his cloak. Neither looked particularly enthused.

"It'll be just like last time," Hagrid explained. "Only now we don' know what we're lookin' fer. Over the summer we had some lootin' goin' on an' since then I've bin havin' ter keep watch durin' the night ter make sure it don't happen again."

That answered Harry's questions about the giant's strange behavior lately - he'd been running himself ragged.

"What kind of looting?" Draco squeaked.

"Oh, nothin' serious," he replied nonchalantly. "Just small things like the garden bein' trampled, statues bein' knocked down, and rocks bein' thrown through windows."

Draco looked marginally relieved. "And we won't have to go in too deep?"

"Only about as far as last time," the giant replied.

Draco paled. "As far as last time," he repeated, his voice rising in pitch. "As far as last time! Like hell I'm doing that. You're out of your bloody mind! Do you even remember what happened last time?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the boy's antics. "Stop whining, you sissy," he taunted, knowing full well that Draco had no problem venturing into the Forbidden Forest. He had Draco figured out – this was all an act.

"Sissy? Sissy!?" he screeched. "This coming from the boy who fainted because of the scary dementors."

Harry stiffened angrily, about to make a comment of his own before he was cut off.

"Boys," Hagrid interjected. "Calm down. It's not like I'm letting yeh go off by yerselves – Fang'll be accompanyin' yeh."

"Oh great – bloody freaking wonderful. I'm so happy we get the drooling mutt from hell as protection. What's he going to do, slobber the monsters to death? I think not," Draco scoffed.

Hagrid smirked at the boy's tirade. "Fine, if yeh don' want Fang, then he'll come wif me."

Draco snapped his mouth shut and shook his head.

"As I was sayin', it'll be just like last time. If yeh see somethin' suspicious shoot up green sparks and if yeh get inter trouble send up red sparks."

They both nodded their understanding.

"Right then, let's go," Hagrid announced cheerfully. Draco groaned.

He led them past the edge of the forest, two lamps clutched high above his head to see things better. A little way in they reached a fork in the path.

"Here we are," he said, pointing to the left and handing them a lamp. "You go up that'a way and I'll go this way. When yeh reach the end, come back and we'll meet in the middle."

Draco snatched the lamp from Hagrid's hand and stared down the path in horror.

"I'll be going then," Hagrid bellowed, stomping off in the opposite direction.

They both glanced at one another nervously. Despite being alone, neither of them wanted to bring up the events that transpired the night before. After an unbearable amount of silence, Harry took the first step. Draco followed, eyeing him suspiciously.

Wet leaves brushed Harry's face and he wiped the liquid away before it could trickle down his cheek. He glanced at the sky and noticed that the moon was just a tiny sliver in the sky.

"At least we don't have to worry about werewolves," Draco grumbled, his eyes following Harry's.

Harry turned around and smirked at the boy. Draco stiffened in irritation, lengthening his stride, quickly taking the lead.

Harry shrugged and fell back – keeping pace with the blond while staying far enough away that they wouldn't have to talk. It was awkward being so close to the boy that had just tortured him. He should have been angry, but he couldn't seem to muster any malice. He was just tired.

Harry continued to shiver as the drizzle gave way to rain. It was a relief to have the cooling drops roll down his flushed face, but he felt uncomfortably cold and hot at the same time.

He trudged on, stumbling occasionally, but always preventing himself from falling. By sheer force of will, he was remaining firmly on his feet. The thought of falling in the mud and then being taunted by Malfoy for his clumsiness was too much. That was all that kept him moving. He wanted to sit and take a break, catch his breath, and wait for the ground to stop slipping, but he wasn't going to be the one who stopped first. He had too much pride for that. It was that damned basketball game all over again. He never seemed to know when to quit.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco wanted this little adventure to be over quickly. He didn't trust Potter. Why hadn't the boy snitched on him? Was he going to use that information against him? And why was the boy acting so cool about everything. They weren't friends. He had to be up to something.

The sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance, getting louder as they progressed. It wasn't long before the path they were on was hugging the edge of a very steep ravine. Draco looked down nervously. He could barely detect the lamp-light reflecting off the surface of the water below. It did not look like fun. He took a few nervous steps backward and continued, hugging the opposite side of the path, trying to put as much distance between him and the edge as he could.

The sound of snapping twigs and a panicked yelp, caused him to spin on his heels, watching in horror as Harry toppled down the side of the ravine and into the water below.

"Shit," he exclaimed, rushing to peer over the edge.


	12. Cold

Without thinking, Draco jumped in after him, splashing into icy cold water. He was momentarily stunned as his body tried to get over the shock of it. A hand passed in front of his face, forcing his brain to snap into action. He latched onto it with all his might and made for the shore, swimming one-handed until he reached the edge of the creek. Using a tree root for leverage against the mud, he dragged them both onto the shore. Draco lay there a moment, his blood rushing noisily in his ears as he caught his breath. Harry lay beside him coughing up river water.

"You idiot," the Slytherin gasped out, expecting a sharp and angry retort. When none came, he glanced over in concern.

Harry was shaking violently. He hadn't been in the water that long or at least Draco didn't think he had. Did hypothermia even happen that fast?

"Are you okay?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone neutral.

Harry nodded weakly, breathing heavily. Draco gave him a dubious expression.

"Can you make it back?"

The boy nodded again.

Draco scanned the bank, looking for a way back up. Deer had made a path along the side of the ravine and it looked good enough for the two of them to use.

"Come on then," he urged, getting up and heading towards the path.

Harry stood, wavering slightly before following him. The path was steep and slick with mud, their feet slipping frequently as they struggled to make their way up. If not for the roots sticking out of the side of the ravine, he doubted they would have succeeded. When they got to the top, both boys sprawled out on the ground breathing noisily.

Draco glared at the shivering Gryffindor and stood back up, trying his best to ignore the boy as he stomped back towards the castle. He felt ill just thinking about what he had done but decided to worry about the repercussions later. They both needed to get dry and warm first.

Harry got shakily to his feet, coughing weakly before staggering along behind Draco.

"Your idiocy caused me to ruin my favorite cloak," Draco scolded without turning around.

Something heavy fell against him and he spun around in surprise, unexpectedly catching Harry in his arms. He was the only thing holding Harry up and without thinking he dropped the boy face-first in the mud.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked in revulsion, taking a few steps back.

The dark-haired boy rolled over with a groan, breathing heavily. Draco nudged him with his foot. Even from this distance he could feel the heat radiating off the smaller boy.

"You're burning up," he exclaimed, glancing about nervously as he tried to formulate a plan.

"Don't you dare die on me," he threatened, finally pulling out his wand and sending up red sparks. "Everyone will think I pushed you in the river if you're not alive to tell them it was your own damn fault."

Harry gave him a weak smile, wiping mud off his face. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. If he could still appreciate the humor of the situation, then he couldn't be that bad off.

"You're getting a kick out of this, aren't you?" Draco growled.

Harry chuckled weakly, "I'll be fine in a moment. I just need to take a little..." another coughing fit interrupted him.

"I just took on a little water," he finally finished when the coughing subsided.

The Slytherin sat down on the ground next to him, shivering as a brisk wind passed through his damp clothes. When they were moving the cold hadn't seemed so bad. Now with the wind blowing and the rain splashing onto his already frigid skin it wasn't long before Draco was shivering just as violently as Harry was. He pulled his cloak tighter.

"Where is that stupid oaf? Maybe he didn't see the sparks," the Slytherin grumbled, realizing in that moment that Fang was nowhere to be seen either. Figures.

Harry's eyes were closed, his face flushed. Despite what Harry had said, Draco was certain he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, but they couldn't just sit there waiting.

"Fuck this shit," he cried in frustration. "We'll freeze to death before anyone shows up. We've got to get moving."

He glanced at the Gryffindor in disgust.

"Can you walk?" he inquired, suspecting that Harry would probably lie again.

He nodded, pushing himself up with a determined expression. As Draco had expected, the boy swayed unsteadily on his feet. Draco managed to catch him just as his legs gave out. Harry was light – almost too light. Draco wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

"Twice in the same week," he remarked. "Don't go making a habit of this, Potter."

He could feel the warmth radiating off the boy in his arms – it was sort of nice.

Now he was faced with a dilemma. It was clear that Harry was in no shape to make it back to the castle, but he couldn't just leave the boy there to defend himself in his condition.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled into his shoulder. "Tired."

Draco shuddered at the thought, but there was no other way. He would have to carry him.

"Just hold still," he said, hoisting the boy onto his back. It wasn't long before Harry dozed off, his face resting gently on Draco's shoulder, his warm breath ticking the back of his neck. Draco was moderately unnerved by the whole situation, but at least he felt warmer as he trudged along.

Despite Harry's slight frame, Draco's arms were beginning to tire. He couldn't continue like this forever. He eyed the mud in distaste, contemplating his next move. With a sigh, he resigned himself to adding more mud to his already soiled garments. He eased Harry down so that the boy could rest his head in his lap.

Rain began pouring down more fiercely as Draco struggled to reach his wand without disturbing the sleeping Gryffindor. He sent up more red sparks and waited, watching Harry as he slept. Without really thinking, he took the boy's glasses off and placed them with his wand for safekeeping. They would get broken if he dropped the boy again. His glasses off, Harry looked surprisingly fragile. How was he the Dark Lord's most feared enemy? He was nothing.

Draco shook his head in exasperation, he was starting to have weird thoughts and they needed to get moving again. He didn't bother trying to get the boy on his back this time, opting instead to just carry him in his arms. Manual labor was not something that he was well-suited for, but neither was freezing to death in the woods.

Just when Draco was thinking that he needed to take another break, he heard a crashing noise and labored breathing from up ahead. Fang, his master in tow, came barreling down upon them.

Upon seeing the unconscious boy in Draco's arms, the giant paled.

"What happened to yeh?" he questioned, taking in their disheveled appearance.

"We both decided to take a little dip in the creek," the blond snapped in agitation.

Hagrid looked appalled. "Yeh what?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You idiot," he growled. "Potter fell in the river and I went in after him. Now hurry up and take him, my arms are tired."

Hagrid snapped into action, taking Harry out of Draco's arms. Even in sleep, the raven-haired boy would not relinquish his hold on Draco's cloak. Draco wasn't even sure when the boy had latched on to it. It was a disconcerting thought.

"I guess yeh'll just have ter walk real close," Hagrid grumbled.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust, mumbling something about stupid Gryffindors, but secretly he was pleased with the arrangement. He wasn't quite ready to give up the warmth the other boy provided – he was freezing.


	13. Sick

Hagrid lowered the boy to a bed in the infirmary as Madam Pomfrey rushed to evaluate and treat him. Harry was drifting in and out of consciousness, shivering violently.

"Here, help me get him into dry clothes," Madam Pomfrey ordered with a stern expression.

She shifted her gaze to Draco who was watching nearby, shivering under his own wet clothes.

"I think you're quite capable of changing yourself," she informed, tossing him a pair of dry pajamas before returning to her previous task. Draco didn't have to be told twice, ducking behind a screen to change.

Hagrid almost had the boy completely disrobed when Draco returned. It was no wonder that Harry was so light, he was just skin and bones, every one of his ribs painfully evident. Draco glanced away with a blush, as they removed his boxers and pulled dry pajama bottoms on.

"I can't believe you just let them go off on their own into the Forbidden Forest," the woman scolded as she shoved Harry's arm into a sleeve. "I thought you would know better by now."

Draco snickered as the giant tried to explain his actions. He had been wondering the same thing all night. It was reassuring to hear that even the adults thought the giant was an incompetent idiot.

"I thought they was old enough ter take care of themselves. How was I ter know that the boy would have a sudden bout of clumsiness."

The healer continued her scolding. "They're just boys – you should have known better."

"It's s'not... his fault," Harry explained through chattering teeth, struggling to gain focus. "I was... already.... comin' .... down wif ....somefin'."

Draco shook his head with an incredulous snort. "I always knew that Gryffindors were idiots, but this...traipsing through the woods with a fever?"

"Malfoy is right, dear, you should have said something," Madam Pomfrey huffed in disapproval.

"No one....would...believe me," the Gryffindor explained, shivering violently as he burrowed deeper into the covers Madam Pomfrey was pulling over him.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her brow drawn tight in agitation.

"No one....ever....believes...," he replied weakly, drifting off before he finished speaking. Draco frowned at the revelation. This pessimistic attitude was not the Harry he was used to. Harry was bold, entitled, and full of himself... not this... not fragile and uncertain. Was all his bravado just a front?

"I would 'ave believed yeh," Hagrid challenged, a hurt look on his face, but Harry didn't hear him.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, and fixed Hagrid with a look that clearly said 'leave or else.'

Draco crept towards the door to make his escape, freezing in his tracks when Madam Pomfrey said without looking at him, "And where do you think you are going Mr. Malfoy? You'll be staying the night as well."

He spun around in surprise, complaining loudly. "I'm perfectly fine and prefer to be sleeping in my own bed, thank you very much."

"I think not," she countered sharply. "You were out in the cold, soaked to the bone for much longer than I would have liked. You will be sleeping here tonight, and I don't want to hear anything more on the subject."

Seeing that he was defeated, the blond huffed angrily, and crawled into a bed in the corner – far, far away from Harry and the conflicting emotions he was feeling.

"Now let's see what we can do about that fever," Madam Pomfrey stated aloud, walking to a shelf that was full top to bottom with different potion vials. She scanned the labels before picking out a small blue colored one. "This one should do the trick."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco lay awake, unable to fall asleep in a strange bed. The moonlight cast frightening shadows across the mostly empty room. He shivered against the cold, pulling his covers up to his chin. A strange noise cut through the silence. Ears straining, he sought to locate its source.

Nearby, Harry tossed fitfully in his sleep, a soft whine escaping his throat, rising steadily in pitch. Draco's eyes zeroed in on the boy.

"Please, I'm sorry," he cried out, suddenly. "I didn't mean to."

As Draco watched in horrified fascination, the boy grabbed out at an invisible person, quickly becoming hysterical – pleading and screaming as the nightmare progressed. Madam Pomfrey rushed in, a worried expression on her face as she attempted to wake him.

"Harry, it's just a dream," she soothed. "Wake up, honey."

Slowly, he settled down, blinking around the room in confusion. A sheen of sweat shimmered in the moonlight, giving his skin a pale, clammy look. She gently placed her hand on his forehead and gasped.

"You're still burning up!" she exclaimed in surprise.

He gave her a wan smile and apologized.

Draco snorted at the boy's strange response – apologizing for running a fever. It was almost as if the idea of being an inconvenience to others was unbearable to him. 

Madam Pomfrey's gaze settled on him. "Since you're up, will you be a dear and fetch Professor Snape. That potion should have worked."

"I'm fine, really," Harry protested feebly. "It's just a little fever. You don't need to get Professor Snape involved."

Draco didn't understand it. It was obvious that the boy would rather die than be a burden or maybe he just wanted to avoid Professor Snape that much? It was a losing battle though. In this infirmary, Madam Pomfrey's word was law.

"When the matter concerns potions not working like they should, then it does require Professor Snape's expertise," she scolded.

The Gryffindor groaned in defeat, his eyes closing as a tremor passed through his small frame.

Troubled by the entire situation, Draco ran off to get Professor Snape. His plan was to tell the man about what had happened and then sneak off to his own dorm, where the beds were comfy and there were no stupid Gryffindor's to interrupt his sleep.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Ron's head was pounding as he glared daggers at Malfoy's sleeping form.

A few days after Harry had fallen ill, both he and Malfoy had come in with similar symptoms. Potions only provided temporary relief but had little to no lasting effect. Ron was convinced that this was somehow Malfoy's doing – must have been a curse that backfired or something.

Despite Professor Snape's best efforts, Harry's condition gradually worsened. He spent most of the day delirious with fever or completely unconscious. Ron couldn't rule out the possibility that Professor Snape was in on it – bringing them potions that only hastened the progression of the disease.

His stomach grumbled noisily, distracting him from his speculations. His throat felt like liquid fire – a burning injustice that prevented the acquisition of food. Life had no meaning without food. With an unhappy harrumph, he rolled over and closed his eyes. He was just too tired to continue glaring at someone who didn't even notice. It felt like someone had cracked open his skull and scrambled his brains around.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Hermione was, shockingly, too distracted to pay attention during class. She was worried about the boys. Their condition, although not currently life-threatening, didn't seem to be improving. The whole situation left her with a sick and ominous feeling. If anything were to happen to them, she didn't know what she would do with herself.

Arithmancy ended and, as she had done every day since the pair got sick, she hurried off to the infirmary to check on their condition. Madam Pomfrey came to the door when she heard the knock.

"Oh, Hermione. Your friends are about the same - no better and no worse."

Hermione nodded understandingly. It was the same thing that she heard the last three days and she wondered vaguely if the woman would lie to her if they did get worse. Since they didn't know what they were dealing with, Hermione had not been allowed passed the quarantine zone to check on them herself.

"Can I at least sneak a peek at them?" she asked, wanting to verify the truth with her own eyes.

"Sure, sweetie."

Hermione glanced around the door, her eyes skimming quickly over Malfoy and landing on Ron. They smiled weakly at each other. She then moved her gaze to Harry. He was sound asleep and looking considerably paler than when she had last seen him. He moaned and rolled over, shoving off his covers as he turned. Madam Pomfrey rushed to his side and placed the covers back on.

"I know you're hot, dear, but you have to keep the covers on – the heat is good for you. It will help you burn out the illness," she soothed.

Harry groaned, shoving at the covers once more, only half-aware of his surroundings. Madame Pomfrey placed her hand on his forehead, shaking her head regretfully as she pushed his bangs out of his face.

"I know," she whispered softly.

Ron was eyeing him in concern and even Malfoy looked slightly worried. Hermione didn't know if it was genuine concern over the boy's well-being or concern over how bad off he would eventually get. Either way, no one appeared at all happy about Harry's condition.

Without thinking, Hermione took a step towards her best friend.

"Just where do you think you're going, girl?" Professor Snape questioned from behind, freezing her in her tracks. He bustled through the door, robes unfurling as he brushed passed her. Ron turned mistrustful eyes in his direction.

"I've made another potion. Hopefully this one will go better than the last," the man announced in a nasally voice. Ron eyed it with a dubious expression.

"Oh, good." Madam Pomfrey replied, taking the offered vial and pouring its contents onto a spoon.

"Harry dear, do sit up and take this potion," Madam Pomfrey ordered softly, helping the boy up and holding the spoon to his mouth. Harry's nose wrinkled in disgust as he tried to pull away. Madame Pomfrey held him firmly in her grip, shoving the spoon into his mouth. He gagged and struggled against her. A few moments later, his body went suddenly rigid, eyes rolling back in his head. Hermione choked back a sob, alarmed by what she was witnessing. When the seizure finally passed, Madam Pomfrey settled the unconscious boy back under his covers. Ron was glaring at the man as if he had expected as much.

Professor Snape hummed thoughtfully. "That didn't go as planned."

"Oh, I didn't notice," Ron shot back.

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at him. "Ronald Weasley," she hissed menacingly. "Don't you dare criticize the man that is trying to save your friend's life."

"More like end it," he replied with a sullen expression, rolling over so that he wouldn't have to look at them anymore. Hermione let out a relieved sigh. If Ron was healthy enough to continue his feud with Professor Snape, then he must be doing okay.

Harry on the other hand – she didn't know what to think. Her stomach had twisted itself into knots just watching him.

Professor Snape turned his cold gaze on her. "Don't you have class to go to?"

She nodded sharply, calling a quick goodbye to her friends as she ran out, tears stinging her eyes.


	14. The Diagnosis

Hermione was devouring all the books in the library she could find on magical illnesses, but it was all to no avail. So far there was no mention of potion-resistant illness anywhere. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was all too familiar though. She knew something, or at least suspected something, but she couldn't get the thought to fully form. Maybe she was looking in the wrong place? She sighed in Neville's direction.

"Neville, you're useless," she grumbled unhappily. "The boys usually say something asinine and then it sparks something and voila. You don't make me 'voila.'"

"I'm sorry Hermione," he replied sheepishly. Then his face lit up with an amused grin. "Maybe you should try for a 'eureka' instead? I might be eureka material."

She smiled wanly at his attempt to cheer her up. She really did miss the boys.

"Okay," she said, trying to refocus by talking aloud. "So, what do I know about magical illnesses? Maybe my scope is too narrow?"

She paused to consider the problem. "Okay, what do I know about illness in general? In muggle medicine, illnesses are typically caused by either viruses or bacteria. Are magical illnesses caused by the same thing?"

She answered her own question. "No one has ever studied it. So, let's just assume that magical illnesses have the same causes."

She pinched her lips between her fingers in thought. Neville studied her with a lost expression on his face.

"If that's the case, then are we dealing with a virus or a bacteria?"

Neville fidgeted nervously as she studied him. "Ummm, I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell are we talking about?"

She waved a hand at him in a dismissive manner and continued speaking aloud.

"If it is a virus, we use anti-viral medicine. If it is a bacteria, we use antibiotics. Madame Pomfrey has a variety of potions to treat a number of different ailments, just like with the different antibiotics and anti-virals."

Her eyes widened as the implications dawned on her. "Eureka!" she announced, grinning at Neville. "MRSA."

Neville was taken aback by the strangeness of her exclamation.

"Is that some kind of spell?" he inquired.

"MRSA," she repeated. "Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus."

"I still don't get it," Neville replied with a shake of his head.

"MRSA or Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus is a muggle bacteria that developed a resistance to traditional antibiotics – the medicine muggles use to treat it. Maybe we are dealing with something similar? A bacteria that has developed a resistance to magical medicine?"

Her eyes were twinkling with excitement as she stood. "I need to discuss this with Madame Pomfrey right away."

"That's probably a good idea, Hermione," Neville replied with a wolfish grin. "I think she needs to give you a once over while you're there - you've been speaking in tongues."

<<<<<   >>>>>

"I had no idea that Muggle medicine was so advanced," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "We rely on potions and spells to identify the qualities of an illness and then utilize the appropriate spell or potion to treat it. To think that all this time, these spells may have just been providing us information about tiny little organisms living within us."

After a moment's silence she inquired, "So, how does that help us with the boys?"

Hermione paused to consider things, glad that the witch had understood what she was trying to explain.

"If magical medicine doesn't work, maybe we need to try muggle medicine?" she suggested with a shrug. "Muggle and Wizard physiology can't be that different."

Madam Pomfrey mulled the idea over. Hermione waited with baited breath.

"I will get in touch with St. Mungo's to see if they can send a muggle healer over," she announced.

"Doctor," Hermione corrected.

"Yes, of course. A muggle Doctor."

<<<<<   >>>>>

A portly man in a white coat was staring up at the ceiling of the Great Hall in wonder.

"My mother-in-law was a witch," he explained. "She used to tell the kids stories about her years here at Hogwarts. I never thought I would ever actually get to see it with my own eyes. My wife was born a squib and none of the kids or grandkids inherited the gift either."

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat loudly, interrupting his musings. "This way, Doctor Maddison."

He smiled apologetically, following her through the Great Hall. Hermione was quick to join them.

"Wonderful. Simply wonderful," he exclaimed, stopping occasionally to marvel at a talking portrait or moving staircase.

"You wouldn't happen to be hiring, would you?" he inquired good-naturedly.

"Not as far as I am aware," the witch responded with a stern expression. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the man. He was someone that most people instantly liked, but Madam Pomfrey seemed immune to his charms.

"So," he continued, changing the subject abruptly. "Tell me about the patients. What are their vitals?"

"Vitals?" Madam Pomfrey questioned, a confused expression on her face.

"You know, their vitals - heart rate, SPO2, blood pressure, temperature?" he explained.

She blinked at him, clearly mystified and glanced in Hermione's direction for assistance.

"Umm," Hermione attempted to explain. "Where you use potions and spells to identify issues with your patients, muggles use machines to extrapolate that data and put it into a meaningful format. He just wants to know what your medical observations are."

Doctor Maddison studied her, clearly impressed by her explanation. In response, she gave him a bashful smile.

Both medical professionals walked on in silence for a while, contemplating the difficulties ahead. Magical medicine and muggle medicine were completely different animals on the surface, but Hermione was certain they could find common ground.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey began to relay her medical observations.

"At first they came in with a high fever and sore throat. Potions have been ineffective at halting the progress of the illness but have provided temporary symptom relief."

"Additionally, Mr. Potter had taken on some water after an unplanned swim in the river. The ill effects of that misadventure responded readily to the usual potions and his cough subsided within a few hours."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Are you telling me that you successfully treated pneumonia within a few hours?"

"Yes," she replied curtly before continuing.

"After a day or two, all patients began to suffer from headache, nausea, and vomiting. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy are both showing signs of improvement. However, Mr. Potter, who was the first to fall ill, has continued to worsen. Lately he had been experiencing seizures, lethargy, and an erratic heart beat."

Doctor Maddison's face drained of color.

"How long has Mr. Potter been experiencing these symptoms?" he inquired, voice tight.

"He has been sick for over a week," she replied nervously. "But the more worrisome symptoms developed a little over a day and a half ago."

Doctor Maddison's pace quickened as he fired off additional questions. "Have you noticed any swelling? Yellowing of the skin or eyes? Confusion? Shortness of breath?"

She shook her head no after every question except the last two.

Finally, they reached the infirmary, Hermione hot on their heels. She crossed the quarantine wards without asking for permission. Madam Pomfrey didn't even notice. She was caught up in the Doctor's sudden sense of urgency.

"Which of them is Mr. Potter?" the doctor asked, moving almost instinctively towards the boy.

"Yes, that one." Madam Pomfrey confirmed.

Harry was deep in sleep, face pale and clammy, breathing labored. Doctor Maddison's expression was grim. He placed his stethoscope to his ears, moving it across various locations on the boy's chest.

"That's a stethoscope," Hermione explained for Madame Pomfrey's benefit, needing to distract herself from the worry that was gnawing at her. "It lets the doctor listen to a patient's heart, lungs, and sometimes even intestines."

Scowling, he opened his bag and pulled out a small blood pressure machine. Hermione interrupted him, "Excuse me Doctor, but electronic devices don't work inside Hogwarts."

"Shit," he cursed and began pulling out an old-fashioned blood pressure cuff and thermometer.

Harry shifted slightly and moaned, his eyes fluttering open briefly as the Doctor took his vitals.

"Hey there, Mr. Potter," he said in a soothing tone. "My name's Doctor Maddison. They brought me in to help you get better."

Harry nodded weakly, eyes unfocused.

"Can you do me a favor?" the Doctor asked. "Can you open your mouth wide so that I can get a throat culture?"

Harry drifted off without responding.

"Come on boy, stay with me," he encouraged, prying open Harry's mouth. "There's going to be a little tickle at the back of your throat, okay?"

Doctor Maddison stuck a long swab into Harry's mouth, he gagged on reflex.

"All done," he announced, swirling the swab in a small tube. An eyedropper was used to place some of the solution into a test tray that he had retrieved from his bag.

The tray was set aside so that the doctor could continue to examine his patient. He pulled back the sheets to observe the boy's ankles, then he took a close look at the boy's fingernails. Without the luxury of the use of modern medical devices, he was forced to rely on good old-fashioned doctoring skills – treating by sight, sound, feel, and smell.

After a few minutes, the doctor picked up the test tray and examined it.

"As I suspected," he announced, solemnly. "He's positive for strep. I'm going to set up an IV for him and then check on the other two."

Madame Pomfrey's eyes never left the Doctor as he dragged a coat rack over, stringing up a bag of saline on it before he began to administer antibiotics and fluids intravenously. Hermione felt confused – strep throat was a fairly common muggle illness. She'd had it once as a child and it hadn't been this serious.

She crossed over towards her boyfriend's bed, placing her hand gently on his shoulder to wake him up for his exam. He opened his eyes with a yawn. "Hi, Mione. You sick now too?" he inquired half-asleep, not fully understanding the situation.

She smiled warmly at him. "No silly. We brought a muggle doctor in to cure you."

Ron's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He's not here to shoot me, is he?"

She laughed causing Malfoy to stir in his sleep. "You mean give you a shot? Maybe. But if you prefer to die..."

Draco sat up in alarm, not liking what he was hearing.

Doctor Maddison strolled over to introduce himself to them both before beginning Ron's exam. It was over quickly.

"Looks like you're starting to get over this by yourself, but to make the process go a lot faster and prevent possible complications, I am going to be prescribing you an antibiotic. You have to take it twice a day for 10 days. Do not skip a dose and do not stop taking it even when you start feeling better."

Ron nodded solemnly.

Malfoy grimaced as the Doctor stood and began to approach.

"You stay away from me, muggle," he hissed in warning, eyes going wide.

"Oh, get over it," Hermione exclaimed in exasperation. "When you're all better, you can go back to your muggle-hating mental illness."

The doctor studied her with a confused expression on his face.

"Think white nationalists," she explained. He nodded knowingly.

"Excuse me," Madam Pomfrey politely interrupted. "Maybe you can direct me on how to perform that exam? It might calm Mr. Malfoy's nerves to have me do it instead."

"I will not be some muggle test-subject," Malfoy growled heatedly. Everyone ignored him.

"That won't be necessary," Doctor Maddison assured them with a shake of his head. "I don't need to examine him to see that he is on the mend. He just needs to follow the same instructions as Mr. Weasley."

He turned to Madam Pomfrey, handing the healer a bottle labeled Amoxicillin with a set of written instructions. "I will leave their care in your capable hands," he informed. "They should be good to return to classes after 48 hours."

He glanced in Harry's direction, expression turning grim once more.

"Now back to my first patient," he announced with a sigh.

Hermione grew suspicious. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with everything she knew about strep throat and its possible complications if left untreated. Honestly, she didn't know very much on the subject.

"Is he going to be all right?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

Both boys studied her face apprehensively. They had been sleeping during Harry's exam, but it was no secret that he was not doing well.

"I can't say," the doctor responded thoughtfully. That was not the answer that she wanted to hear from him. She gazed at him imploringly.

"I need to run additional tests, but I don't think I can do that here," he explained, shrugging helplessly.

Hermione pursed her lips, studying the man thoughtfully. There had to be something that they could do.

"Tell me what you need, and I will see if there is magical method of doing it," Hermione suggested.

He sighed and considered his words carefully, acutely aware that all eyes were on him.

"One of the potential complications of untreated strep throat is rheumatic fever. It usually sets in after one to five weeks and causes arthritis and heart valve damage."

He paused to let them take in the full effects of his words.

"With just a stethoscope, I have confirmed that there is something going on with his heart, but without the right equipment I am unable to fully evaluate the extent of the damage. At this point in time, I can't rule out congestive heart failure as a possible outcome."

Hermione had to find a chair to sit down in. It was a lot to process. Ron appeared scared and confused, his eyes darting about as if he didn't know where he should be looking.

"So, what I need," the man continued. "is the imaging equipment necessary to take a good look at his heart. Do you have something comparable?"

She let out a noisy breath and composed herself, standing up to pace back and forth, wracking her brain for a solution. She needed to focus.

"I think I might know of something," Hermione announced, glancing between Doctor Maddison and Madam Pomfrey. "The Mirror of Revealing. It allows a person to peer through objects that are not warded. It should allow you to see what you need. If we don't have one, they are relatively easy to make with a few simple charms. The staff here should be able to throw one together."

Madam Pomfrey had been following the conversation closely, her brow drawn tight as she attempted to keep up with the Muggle medical terms.

"Excuse me," she interrupted again. "Are you saying that Harry's heart has been damaged in some way by this illness?"

They both nodded solemnly.

She smiled brightly at them. "It shouldn't be a problem then. The healers at St. Mungo's can repair the damage to his heart as soon as his illness has passed."

"I am such an idiot," Hermione exclaimed, flushing in embarrassment. "Of course, you can repair heart damage! I mean, I've never heard of a wizard dying from a heart attack."

"I don't think it will be that easy," Doctor Maddison stated, shaking his head with a regretful expression. "He has to survive this illness first."

Hermione's heart sank at his words.

"So, what do we need to do to cure him?" Madam Pomfrey inquired, not letting herself get discouraged. "Does he require this amoxicillin as well?"

"Well – yes," the man stammered, taken aback by her determined expression. "That is one of the drugs that I put in his IV."

"You mean that thing?" she asked pointing at the bag on the coat rack. He nodded.

"What else do we need to do?"

Doctor Maddison shifted nervously.

"Plenty of rest and fluids. Make sure he isn't putting any undue strain on his heart – not that he will be capable of doing that," he added.

He sighed in exasperation, eyeing the woman with a stern expression. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves here, he still might die. I have no way of knowing how serious the damage is."

Ron let out a frightened squeak. Even Malfoy turned ashen at the harsh statement.

Hermione jumped into action-mode, forcing herself to stay focused on what could be done. "Well, where's that damned mirror?" she demanded. "Let's stop speculating and get some answers."

Madam Pomfrey smiled appreciatively. "I'll go get one right away."

She came back a few seconds later and handed the mirror to the muggle Doctor.

He took it apprehensively. "Now, I'm no cardiologist..." he started.

"He means a doctor who specializes in medicine related to the heart," Hermione explained for Madam Pomfrey's sake.

"...so, I don't know how much use I'll be. I would feel a lot better sending him off to a specialist."

"Doctor, quit stalling," Hermione admonished.

He blanched at the sharpness in her tone. "Okay, show me how this thing works."

Madam Pomfrey led him to Harry's side. They chatted at great length, pointing out aspects of Harry's heart and functions. Neither of them seemed tense, so the news must be good. Hermione felt relieved.

He smiled back at the nervous teens.

"The damage isn't as bad as I feared. His heart is still struggling to pump blood efficiently, but he shouldn't be in any immediate risk of dying. We should keep an eye on him and let the meds do their job. If he were in a normal hospital, he would be a prime candidate for a heart transplant."

Hermione visibly paled at his statement and the contradictory information she was receiving – the damage wasn't that bad and he needed a heart transplant.

"Doc, if you keep doing this to me," she squeaked. "Then I'm going to be the one needing a heart transplant."


	15. Recovery

Draco shook his head in disbelief at the mountain of sweets, cards, and other well-wishes the Potter Fan Club had dropped off. On those rare moments when Harry was awake and aware, he saw the boy eyeing his loot in disgust. It was not at all what he expected to be seeing from the boy. If their roles were reversed, Draco would have been basking in all that attention.

Pansy studied him curiously. She had shown up to see how her 'dear friend' was doing, but spent most of her time watching Harry. He didn't like that she had suddenly turned her attention on him.

"I hear you're getting discharged today," she prodded, trying to start a conversation. "What was it like spending a whole week with Potter and Weasley? I bet it was terribly boring."

Draco didn't bother responding. It wasn't like she was actually cared, she was just using him as an excuse to sniff out information on Harry's condition.

Pansy's eyes followed his, scrutinizing Potter's ghastly appearance. "Think he's going to make it?"

"Hopefully," Draco replied without thinking. Pansy's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she turned to look at him. He quickly moved to cover his mistake. "I mean, it would be pretty embarrassing if You-Know-Who's mortal enemy was taken out by some common muggle illness."

A week with these Gryffindors was compromising his good judgement. He'd almost given Pansy her next big story – _Malfoy Saves Potter, Then Dotes at His Bedside_.

She appeared to accept his explanation and he let out an internal sigh of relief.

"So, why'd you do it?" she asked after a while, sharp eyes studying his face.

"Do what?" he grumbled, confused by the abrupt change in topic.

"Save him," she replied, gesturing across the room.

He paled considerably – she had him by the balls on this one. There wasn't a suitable explanation for it – at least not one that would work on her. His only recourse was to pull rank.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he spat disdainfully.

She smiled like a cat toying with a mouse, unfazed by the loosely veiled threat in his statement. A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, realization dawning on him in that instant – she had been the saboteur all along; it was written plain as day on her face.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"You have to eat," Hermione scolded as Harry absentmindedly played with the food on his tray. "The healers at St. Mungo's want you to put on a bit more weight before they finish repairing the damage to your heart. Unless you enjoy being practically bedridden?"

"I know," Harry sighed, bringing another forkful of chicken to his mouth. It was dry and bland and made him terribly thirsty. He grimaced around it as his jaw worked at breaking it down so that he could swallow it.

Three weeks had passed since he first fell ill and while his strength was improving, his appetite was not. Thanks to the first surgery, he no longer required assistance with every mundane task. Unfortunately, they hadn't finished the job, fearing the strain on his already weakened body would kill him. Healing placed a lot of demands on a person.

"What are your plans for Winter Break?" Ron asked suddenly, interrupting Harry's train of thought.

Harry studied the two of them thoughtfully, choosing his words with care. "I'm thinking I might stay here at Hogwarts. You know...in case something happens," he stated, patting his chest meaningfully.

They both breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's a great idea," Hermione replied.

Ron chimed in, "Honestly, I was worried about how you would handle all those stairs at our place."

They glanced at one another with guilty expressions. They'd been fussing over him constantly and it was placing a considerable amount of strain on their friendship.

"If you want," Ron started. "We can stay here and keep you company?"

Harry shook is head with an appreciative smile. "That won't be necessary. I have a lot of school work to catch up on. It would just be boring."

"We wouldn't mind helping you with it," Hermione offered eagerly.

"It's fine," Harry insisted. "Go spend time with your family. I'll be okay."

"If you say so," Ron replied dubiously.

Harry felt a twinge of guilt at having lied to them, but he knew they wouldn't approve of what he actually planned on doing. Even he was having doubts.

He had told Dumbledore that he planned on staying with the Weasley's over Christmas break to get out of spending time with Lupin. Now he was telling his friends he was staying at Hogwarts to get out of spending time with them. He had no intention of staying in either location. He was going stir-crazy just considering those options.

Hermione brightened suddenly, distracting him from his thoughts.

"We're going to Hogsmeade today, do you want us to bring you something back?"

Harry couldn't think of anything that he needed. Thanks to Ron, he had enough sweets to last a century.

"No," he shook his head regretfully. "I'm good."

They both anxiously studied him before standing to leave when he gave them a reassuring smile.

"See you later," Ron declared with forced cheerfulness.

Harry watched them leave, a sullen expression forming on his face. He gazed longingly out the window at the snow-covered grounds, reminiscing about the excitement of a Hogsmeade weekend right before Christmas. With a sigh of resignation, he accepted that there was absolutely no way he could make it all the way there. He had come far in his recovery, but it still took everything he had just to make it out to the grounds. That didn't mean he needed to stay cooped up in the infirmary though.

"I think I'll go for a walk," he announced.

Madam Pomfrey, who been standing nearby, glanced in his direction. "That sounds like a lovely idea. I'll ask Dobby to escort you. I hope I don't have to remind you that you shouldn't push yourself too hard."

"I know," he replied bitterly, recalling all the times he had been carried back to his bed when he prematurely ran out of steam. Assigning Dobby to his care had been a brilliant move on Madam Pomfrey's part. Any time he reached his limit, Dobby could have him back in his bed in an instant.

She scrutinized him intently. He shifted nervously under her gaze, wondering what she was thinking.

"I would also like for Dobby to accompany you over Christmas break. He is rather fond of you and if you find yourself in a pinch, he can apparate you straight to St. Mungo's for care."

She paused again, obviously taking great care in the words she was choosing.

"Especially since you have not yet disclosed to anyone where you will actually be spending your Christmas break. You have given a different answer to anyone who asks."

He closed his eyes with a grimace – nothing escaped that woman's notice. She sighed in exasperation, a disapproving look twisting up her features.

"Just promise me that you will relax and take care of yourself. Dobby has been instructed to let me know if you are putting yourself in unnecessary danger. There were a lot of sacrifices made to keep you alive, Mr. Potter. Don't take that lightly."

Her words cut deep. He knew full well the sacrifices that had been made for him. At times he wondered if the price had been too steep.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco sat alone at lunch. He had only been in the infirmary a week, but he had returned to a drastically different political landscape. His heroics in the woods had seriously compromised his position with his fellow Slytherins.

"I heard that someone saw them kissing in the infirmary," a blond girl nearby whispered loudly as she glanced in his direction.

"That's what I heard as well - Potter and Malfoy an item. Who would have seen that coming? Certainly explains all the tension between them," her friend whispered back.

They both giggled, hiding their faces in embarrassment when they realized that Draco had overheard them.

 Wild rumors had begun to circulate about the nature of his relationship with Potter. He was certain that Pansy was the source, but he still couldn't guess at what her motives were. What was her endgame? Surely only giggling idiotic girls would believe such things? So why was he getting the cold shoulder from everyone else?

<<<<<   >>>>>

Pansy noticed Draco sitting alone at lunch and smiled to herself. The boy had signed his death warrant when he had spurned her advances, making it quite clear he had no intentions of marrying her. It was proving to be a costly mistake for him.

"My father asked me to assist you with your plans," Nott explained as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "But, it seems you already have things well in hand. Please tell me how you did it?"

His hungry eyes were pulled in Draco's direction as he studied him like a feral animal. "How did you isolate him with such ease?"

Pansy smiled demurely, pulling her eyes away from Draco to focus on her companion. "We couldn't risk having the Malfoy heir married off to another family," she announced with a shrug. "Better to crush the whole family rather than risk letting him disrupt the existing power structure with a bad match."

"I get that," Nott grumbled, "but how did you do it? Looks like Malfoy never even saw it coming."

"It was too easy," she proclaimed offhandedly. "His friends and everyone else in Slytherin were already getting tired of him. All I had to do was spread a few rumors and everything came crashing down around him. Honestly, he did it to himself by being such an insufferable idiot." 

"So what's next?" Nott inquired with a devilish smirk. "Why have I been asked to assist you?"

"Next?" she asked. "I guess the next step is letting these rumors run wild among the pure-blood families. The Malfoys will no doubt try to squash them, but rumors like these tend to have a life of their own. Our job is to confirm... without actually confirming, of course... these rumors. You know, talk about how close Potter and Draco seemed lately, how odd it was that they came down with the same muggle illness, hesitate a moment when they ask if you've ever seen them kissing or otherwise acting intimately before you brush it off or unconvincingly deny it. Any way you paint it, the Dark Lord's supporters will not take kindly to the idea that one of their own might be involved in an unnatural relationship with their sworn enemy."

"I still don't see how that will crush the Malfoys," Nott replied, his brows drawn tight in confusion.

"It won't crush them just yet, but it will weaken their position with the Dark Lord. Then we just have to wait for our moment to strike. It's easiest to push someone off their pedestal when they are standing precariously near the edge. We've just maneuvered them closer to the edge."

Nott nodded sagely at her metaphor, studying Draco once again as he licked his lips. He looked ready to devour the former Prince of Slytherin. "Just let me know when you can use my help," he offered.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Ron asked for the tenth time that day.

Harry's returning strength had sparked a hope in Ron that he might be up for all those stairs after all. The Order had even provided the family with a car in case Harry changed his mind.

"No, I'm fine." Harry replied dismissively. "I have a lot of stuff to catch up on and I'll only get distracted."

Hermione appeared to be overflowing with pride at his determination to finish his make-up work. She nudged her boyfriend rather roughly to get him to drop the subject.

"All right then, I'll see you after the holidays." Ron muttered dejectedly.

"We'll miss you," Hermione added.

"Me too," he whispered back, guilt nipping at his insides.

Once the hugging and goodbyes were done, the entire Weasley clan plus Hermione had gotten into the car and disappeared. As soon as they were out of site, Harry signaled for Dobby to begin 'Operation Popsicle Stand.'

Realizing that it would be utterly impossible for Harry to make it on the Hogwart's Express without attracting a lot of attention, the two of them had worked out all the details in advance. While Harry was busy saying his goodbyes, Dobby would begin moving his luggage on board the train. At the signal, Dobby was to apparate Harry onto the train right under everyone's noses. Before anyone realized what had occurred, the two of them would be long gone.

So far, the plan was going smoothly. He had made it onto the train just in the nick of time, adrenaline coursing through his veins in response to the deception.

"Nice work," he proclaimed breathlessly, holding out his hand for a high-five. Dobby looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Anything for Mr. Harry Potter," he responded, delicately placing the palm of his hand atop Harry's. He seriously needed to teach the elf how to do a proper high-five.

The train was basically empty. Many of the parents had opted to pick up their kids directly from Hogsmeade. While the castle itself might be safe, there had been a lot of unpleasant rumors circulating about a possible Death Eater attack on the Hogwart's Express. The only students that were brave enough to take the train were mostly from Slytherin House. He found that fact particularly unnerving, like being surrounded by the enemy.

His heart began to flutter, his chest tightening painfully. Harry realized with a bit of trepidation, that he needed to find a place to sit down and fast, the air was getting thin, his limbs going weak. He'd had too much excitement for one day and the day wasn't even close to being finished yet.

He staggered into the first empty-looking compartment he could find. Unbeknownst to Harry, said compartment was also the chosen brooding ground of a certain moody blonde Syltherin.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco glared at whomever it was who had dared to enter his compartment. His glare gave way to gasp of surprise as a certain irritating Gryffindor collapsed noisily in the seat across from him, his eyes shut tight in a pained expression as he struggled to catch his breath.

Draco cleared his throat rather loudly to attract the boy's attention.

Harry's eyes shot open in surprise, quickly locking onto his own. Draco found himself drowning in emerald pools of mystery. When nothing was said for quite some time, Harry's long lashes fluttered for a moment before closing again.

It was painfully obvious that Harry didn't have the energy to relocate. He was ungracefully sprawled across the seats on the other side of the compartment. Dobby had moved himself protectively in front of the raven-haired boy, eyeing him warily.

Now Draco was faced with a dilemma, stay where he was or relocate? If he stayed, it was bound to become public knowledge. He'd already attracted the ire of his fellow Slytherins when they had learned of Draco's heroics in the woods. This awkward predicament would only fan the flames of suspicion. On the other hand, he was there first. It was a matter of pride and Draco was rather prideful.

He studied the boy's sleeping form, deciding to stand his ground. After all, the damage to his reputation had already been done. It was unlikely that it could get any worse.

"Master Malfoy has changed, sir," Dobby wondered aloud. "Master Malfoy is not attacking Harry Potter, he is saving him instead."

"Don't remind me," Draco growled, frustrated by the fact that even the house elves had their speculations about the two boys.

"I just didn't want to take the blame if he died," he grumbled.

Somewhere along the line, his feelings for his rival had softened. As much as it pained him to admit it, Harry was not the person that Draco had always assumed him to be. In fact, after watching his painful recovery, he had come to admire him. It had come as quite a shock when Draco realized that maybe he had been simply projecting all the traits he disliked about himself onto the boy. It was pointless to continue hating him when all his reasons had evaporated. That still didn't mean they were friends – just not enemies anymore.

<<<<<   >>>>>

When the train finally stopped, Harry watched, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as Draco sullenly gathered his things and exited the compartment without saying a word. Draco was returning home. Harry understood what if felt like to return to a home where he was unwelcome, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Dobby," Harry inquired with an embarrassed look on his face. "Do you think you can get us to the Leaky Cauldron? I had intended to take the Knight Bus, but I just don't think I have it in me anymore."

"Dobby can help, sir. Harry Potter is Dobby's friend." With a snap of his finger, the world spun about. After a brief disorienting second, they found themselves on the ground in front of a tired looking inn. A moment later and Doby had returned with all of their belongings.

"Thanks Dobby. I'm really glad to have you with me."

Dobby looked on the verge of tears again.

"Now let's go find our room – I feel like I could sleep for a week."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Upon stepping off the train, Draco studied the crowd, looking for the towering figure of his father. After quite a bit of time had passed and most of the crowd had cleared out, Benson appeared, bowing apologetically.

"I am sorry Young Master Malfoy. Your father is busy attending to other matters and asked that I bring you home. Please, allow me to take your things."

Draco dropped the strap of his bag into Benson's outstretched hand and motioned towards the trunk floating behind him.

Benson straightened with a nod of understanding. "Right this way, Master Malfoy. The carriage is just over here."

The ride home was quiet. When he had first been discharged from the infirmary, he had been expecting to receive a summons from his father – none came. In fact, he had received no communication whatsoever from home since the night he saved Potter. Rather than having business to attend to, it was more likely that his father just couldn't stand to look at him. It shouldn't have surprised him.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally caught a glimpse of home – a white manor framed by a blood-red setting sun. A shiver traveled down his spine. Malfoy Manor was perfectly positioned so that the sunset of the Winter Solstice would take place directly behind the Manor. He didn't exactly know which Malfoy had designed it that way and to what purpose, but it had been intentional – that much he was certain of.

The closer he got, the more apprehensive he became. His mother and grandmother were waiting for him in the drive, but no one else was there, not even members of staff. It was not the welcome that he typically received upon returning home – he stepped out of the carriage with a sense of dread.

"Draco dear, it's been ages since I saw you last. I swear, you must have grown at least two inches," his grandmother exclaimed as she threw her arms around him in a warm embrace. He softened in her arms, perplexed by the unexpected show of affection.

"Three," he grumbled into the woman's shoulder.

She grasped him by the shoulders and held him at arm's length, eyeing him. "That's wonderful. I was worried that you might have inherited not only your mother's looks but her short stature as well."

Narcissa's nose crinkled in disgust. Of all the people in the world, she hated her mother-in-law the most. Narcissa was not the choice that Grandmother had in mind in terms of political alliances. She had her heart set on marrying young Lucius off to the eldest Parkinson girl, but Lucius would hear nothing of it. It had been quite the scandal back in the day.

Draco rolled his eyes, knowing he was in for another late night with his mother, both of them bitching about what a beast his grandmother was. It was something that the two of them did quite frequently. Grandmother's acid tongue was a sore spot for the both of them.

An involuntary shiver passed through him as the last dying rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon. His mother was quick to notice.

"Let's get you inside, dear. Can't have you getting sick on us again," she cooed, retrieving her son from the hands of her mother-in-law.

His heart warmed appreciatively. His mother had been worried about him after all, but there was one nagging thought that he couldn't seem to shake.  _Why hadn't she written?_


	16. Lost and Found

Christmas break was going better than he had anticipated. With Dobby's help, he was slowly covering greater and greater distances during his outings. Today, his plan was to explore Diagon Alley in hopes of finding the perfect gift for his friends. He felt guilty about shutting them out like he had.

He had considered buying Hermione some sort of medical textbook. Ever since his illness, she had been fixated on the idea of merging Muggle and Magical Medicines, meeting frequently with Madam Pomfrey to discuss several improvements to the infirmary. Harry smiled recalling the exasperated expression on the woman's face as Hermione discussed the possibility of IV usage for administering potions to an unconscious patient.

Something shiny caught the sunlight and he glanced over at the jewelry store he passed every day on his way out. It was a charming little place with large windows out front to display some of their more beautiful pieces. While a book would have been fine, Hermione had just saved his life. Surely that warranted something a bit more meaningful? Not fully committed to the idea, he decided that it couldn't hurt to look.

A few pieces caught his eye, but he balked at the price tag and moved further in. The only things that weren't outrageously priced were also horrifically gaudy. Was it even possible to find something elegant yet affordable?

He wandered over to a dusty display case toward the back of the room; the sign above the case proclaiming, "50% Off." Everything was a jumble inside and he struggled to make heads or tails of what exactly he was looking at.

"Can I get a look at that one?" he asked, gesturing to the bit of what he thought might be a butterfly wing.

The shopkeeper took is his disheveled appearance with a sneer, failing to recognize who he was as he shuffled over. It had been happening a lot lately. Hell, he hardly recognized himself in the mirror at times. With his pale skin and hollow features, he almost looked like a corpse. Certainly not the smiling Boy-Who-Lived who was frequently pictured in the Daily Prophet. Secretly, he was enjoying the anonymity.

A jangling sound cut through the silence of the store as the man inspected key after key in irritation. He held one of them up with a triumphant expression before opening the case.

"This one?" the man inquired, struggling to extricate the butterfly from the other pendants hanging from the same hook. With an exasperated sigh, he pulled the whole mess out, twisting and pulling until all the tangles had been worked out.

His breath caught as he noticed another piece that had been set aside - a silver dragon with its wings spread wide, its body wrapped tightly around a long sword.

The butterfly was perfect for Hermione with its diamond encrusted wings of silver. He could picture her wearing it at some fancy dinner party. But that dragon... If he was getting Hermione a fancy gift for saving his life, he may as well get Draco one too. After all, Draco was catching all sorts of hell from his fellow Slytherins because of it. According to Ron, he had been eating alone ever since. Harry couldn't help but feel responsible.

"I'll take them both," Harry announced, leaving a small pile of galleons on the counter as he snatched up both pendants and headed for the door.

He could hear a choking sound behind him as the shopkeeper struggled to overcome his shock.

"Would you like a box?" he finally gasped.

"That would be lovely," Harry responded, turning around with a smile.

<<<<<   >>>>>

The Malfoy's were sitting down to enjoy a nice, elaborate family dinner. He knew Mother had spent weeks planning every aspect of his grandmother's stay. It seemed she was always trying so hard to impress the woman that she hated with such passion. The candles were lit, the silverware was gleaming, the house-elves were having a panic attack in their attempt to live up to the Lady of the House's exacting standards. Everything seemed to be coming together perfectly.

Draco's grandmother took in the scene before her with a dispassionate expression on her face. She had been in a mood all day and it was obvious that this was going to be a most unpleasant meal.

"How quaint," she stated simply, causing Mother's eyelid to twitch in irritation.

"Draco, my dear," his grandmother questioned, turning sharp eyes on him. "How are your studies going?"

He glanced apprehensively at his father first before mumbling his reply. "Well enough."

"Come now, don't be modest," she chided. "Surely you are making top scores in all your classes like your father did?"

"No," he admitted, hating the fact that she always brought this subject up. It wasn't that he wasn't smart, he just didn't see the point in trying so hard. One day he would the Head of the Household and his grades in school wouldn't matter. He also didn't feel much like admitting that he was always being bested by a frizzy-haired mudblood.

"That's unfortunate," she replied, eyeing him like he was a three-day-old meat pie.

She looked pointedly at Mother as she continued, "It's hardly your fault really – all things considered."

Mother bristled at the implied insult. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Draco felt sorry for his mother, sorry that she was blamed for all his failures, sorry that he couldn't be more than he was for her sake, sorry for everything. Guilt was nipping uncomfortably at his stomach.

"Sometimes good breeding can smooth out a few deficiencies, but..." Grandmother trailed off, scrutinizing Draco carefully. "It really is a pity. You have such beautiful features. Had you been born a girl instead, maybe we wouldn't be finding ourselves in this difficult predicament."

Draco was unsure of the point of this conversation. His grandmother's acid tongue was well-known, but he got the distinct impression that there was more to it this time. It was as if she were trying to make a point, but he wasn't the intended recipient - he was just collateral damage.

Both of his parents were tense, breath shallow and noisy as they took the verbal abuse.

"Maybe things will work out differently with Faren," she continued, looking directly at Father as she spoke. "Draco was never really a good fit to be your heir. He's got too much of his mother in him – a beautiful child for sure, but just not cut out to be a Malfoy."

She placed her hand comfortingly on Father's arm, speaking about Draco as if he weren't even in the room. "I'm sure you tried your best with him. I kept hoping for your sake that he would eventually come into his own, but clearly that hope was misplaced. You should have listened to me when I told you to dispose of the runt. I usually have a good eye for these sorts of things."

She gave her son a meaningful look, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Draco's eyes widened in shock when no one said a word to defend him. It was no secret that he was a disappointment, but still?

"Draco, my dear," she turned cold eyes on him, pinning him to his seat. "I heard the most curious thing not too long ago. Someone told me that you saved Harry Potter's life. At first, I laughed it off. No grandson of mine would so openly spit in the face of the Dark Lord. So, you can only imagine how shocked I was to hear the story from the Headmaster himself at last night's party."

Draco's breath caught in his throat. He had been waiting for this for weeks, but so far, no one had brought it up. It had bothered him that no one was saying anything about it, but now he wished they could just go back to pretending it hadn't happened.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, admitting to the crime.

Father's eyes narrowed in suspicion, his voice could have frozen lava.

"Why, may I ask, did you do that?" he inquired.

Draco squirmed in his chair, eyes downcast. He couldn't find the words to explain himself. His body had just moved. He had come up with a dozen reasons why, but none of them were enough. There was nothing to say.

Faren, who had been silent this whole time, glanced in his grandmother's direction. She gave a slight nod and he turned to smile innocently at his parents.

"At the party last night, I heard a lot of stuff being said about big brother and Harry Potter."

Draco glared at his grandmother. It was obvious she was using Faren to throw salt in the wounds. She failed to notice his glare; her eyes were fixed on her son's face.

"According to some of them, the two have been up to more than just hanging out."

The implication was clear. Draco had heard those rumors too, but they seemed so preposterous that at first, he thought that no one would believe them. He thought wrong.

"That's not true," he protested indignantly, finally finding his voice. "That's not true at all."

Father had heard enough, he stood up from his chair to tower over his son.

"I thought I had made it quite clear to you that you were to cease being a source of embarrassment for this family?" Father snarled. "Whether it's true or not, the fact that people would even speculate this about you, what does that say about the kind of man they think you are?"

His eyes bore into the top of Draco's skull.

"It's all Pansy's fault," Draco insisted. "She's the one who has been spreading these rumors. I can assure you that we are not friends nor anything else."

"In fact," he continued, puffing himself up with pride. "I captured and tortured him with the Cruciatus Curse the night before he fell in the river."

Lucius scoffed in disbelief. Draco's announcement was not having the effect that he was expecting it too.

"If you're going to lie to me to take the heat off, at least make it a believable lie," his father spat in derision.

"Wha.." Draco started before being cut off.

"You want me to believe that you captured and tortured Harry Potter on school grounds? That you, the boy who cried every time we practiced it, successfully performed the Cruciatus Curse on Harry Potter? And then you ask me to believe that Harry Potter didn't tell a single soul? Do you have such a low opinion of your father's intelligence that you would think I could be fooled by this?"

Draco was at a loss for words. It was the truth, but no one believed him. He suddenly thought of Harry, lying in bed, claiming that "No one ever believes me." He shook his head to clear that image, Father was still furiously studying him.

"I just can't do this anymore." Father sighed, clearly disappointed in the outcome of the night's events. "You're traveling down a path that this family cannot follow. I have our reputation and standing to consider. Allowing you to stay here puts us all in jeopardy."

His grandmother nodded approvingly. Father's expression hardened with resolve as he scrutinized his son. Draco couldn't meet his gaze.

"Grab as much of your belongings as you want and get out," he declared, turning away from his son. "You don't belong to this family anymore. If you are still here by the time dinner is finished, I'll kill you myself."

It took Draco a while before his father's words sank in. Tears stung at his eyes. By the posture of everyone there, it was clear that there was no getting out of this predicament. They had closed themselves off to him.

"Yes, Father," Draco whispered.

The man stiffened but did not turn around. "Don't ever call me that again."

Once his belongings were packed tightly in his trunk, he made his way downstairs, pausing at the entrance of the Dining Room when he heard his mother sobbing. Faren watched him curiously from a few feet away.

"Damnit mother," he heard Father's voice crack as he spoke. "I wasn't ready to do this yet. Why did you have to force my hand like that?"

He heard a swish of clothing and his grandmother's soothing voice. "I know, my boy. It was hard for us all, but we made the right decision here. It was clear that your resolve was wavering. The longer you put it off, the harder it was going to get. I couldn't keep watching you torture yourself over this. We did what we had to do."

Draco didn't want to listen anymore. He stalked towards the door, his parents' sobs echoing behind him as he left Malfoy Manor for the last time.

"See you later," Faren called out innocently as he slammed the door closed. Draco wasn't entirely sure the boy had a full understanding of the situation. It was either believe that or believe he had been in on it from the get go. No, this was all Pansy's doing. He shouldn't place blame where it didn't belong.

He started in surprise as Benson intercepted him, gesturing toward the carriage waiting out front.

"Lord Malfoy has instructed me to take you back to Wizarding London," he informed. "Severus Snape will be waiting for you there. Whether you choose to continue at Hogwarts or not is entirely up to you. Either way, enough money has been set aside for you to complete your education. Master Snape has been put in charge of your finances, while you are under his care."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry was prowling the streets once again, proud of how far he had gotten that day. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he had been struck by the urge to go out again shortly after nightfall. Dobby had accompanied him as a precaution.

He pulled up short when he recognized two familiar figures talking heatedly outside the entrance of the infamous Knockturn Alley.

"Shove off and leave me alone," the smaller figure shouted, turning abruptly and running in Harry's general direction, his trunk trailing behind him. A wayward shoulder caught Harry as he passed, knocking him off his feet. His assailant didn't even look back.

Professor Snape approached, his lip curled in disgust as he stared down his nose at him. "What are you doing here?"

Harry gazed up at him with an innocuous smile. "Just a bit of Christmas shopping. Was that Malfoy who just took me out?"

"That is none of your concern," he snarled. "It would be in your best interest to return to wherever you came from and not mention anything you saw tonight."

Harry got his feet under him and brushed the slush off his pants. "Whatever you say, Professor."

A chill was setting in from his dampened clothes. It wasn't necessarily a bad idea for him to return to his room, but he wanted to check on something first.

"Dobby, let's get going."

As he made his way back, he kept scanning the streets and alleys, looking for any sign of the boy who had just run off. It didn't take very long to find him, huddled against his trunk in a dark alley, shivering miserably. With a pang of guilt, he realized that Draco looked like he intended to die there.

"Malfoy?" he inquired, taking a few hesitant steps towards him.

Draco glanced up at him with a scowl. "Piss off," he barked, teeth chattering.

"What are you doing here?" Harry continued, undeterred by the boy's angry demeanor.

"I think I just told you to piss off," the blond snarled. "You're the last person I want to see right now."

Harry took another determined step, finally closing the distance between them.

"Sorry to be such a disappointment, but I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on?"

Draco fixed him with a withering glare. "What the hell is wrong with you? Fuck Potter, why do you always have to stick your nose into shit that doesn't involve you?"

Harry was so taken aback for a moment, that he didn't know what else to say. An uncomfortable silence blanketed the alley. This was the second time that Draco had made that accusation. The first had not ended very well. Harry shuddered at the memory before schooling his features to hide his rising sense of panic. This time things had to be different.

"Did you run away from home?" Harry ventured, waving his hand in the direction of Draco's trunk. "I have a room at the Leaky Cauldron," he mumbled uncertainly, not waiting for an answer. "...if you need a place to crash for the night."

Draco bristled at the suggestion, eyes narrowed and murderous. "I don't need your charity, Potter." He spat out the words in disgust. "And I haven't run away from home, I've been disowned. You happy now?"

Harry shifted nervously under the boy's icy glare, heart thundering in his chest as he wondered if this really was a good idea. He glanced over to meet Draco's silvery eyes – angry yet full of anguish. It was in Harry's nature to help people, even if they didn't want it, even if he hadn't tried to help them before.

"It's not charity," Harry assured him. "I still owe you one."

"You idiot," Draco scoffed with a bitter look. "The whole reason I'm in this mess in the first place is because of you. Shacking up with you at the Leaky Cauldron will do nothing to improve my situation. I think I'd rather die than live through another round of those rumors."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, saying the first thing that came to mind. "I've grown accustomed to people lying about me. Hell, when you're the Boy-Who-Lived, they even print that crap on the front page of the newspaper. Nothing surprises me anymore. People claiming that the two of us are having some elicit love affair doesn't even make it onto my Top Ten List."

"Oh," Draco responded dejectedly. While the rumors meant nothing to Harry, it was obvious that they meant a lot more to Draco.

Harry backpedaled valiantly at Draco's forlorn expression, trying to make things right. "I mean, I'm sorry you ended up in the spotlight just for saving me...," he trailed off weakly, not really sure what he should be saying.

Draco let out an irritated growl in response. The silence stretched on uncomfortably.

Harry slumped against the wall, a tiredness creeping into his bones – he'd pushed himself too far today and he knew it. What little energy he had left, he used to lay out on his back in the freshly fallen snow, staring up at the narrow strip of sky overhead, small puffs of breath appearing above him with each exhalation. Despite the cold, it was a very beautiful night.

"Planning to make snow angels?" Draco questioned with a sneer. Harry smiled weakly at the insult and closed his eyes.

Dobby danced from one foot to the next in agitation at his side, making strange crunching noises as his feet compressed the snow.

"Harry Potter mustn't take a nap in the snow, it is not healthy. Madam Pomfrey instructed Dobby to take care of Harry Potter," he wailed.

"Sorry," Harry apologized with a soft chuckle. "I guess I'm out of fuel."

With eyes still closed, he spoke to Draco without looking at him. "So, are you coming or not? It's your choice."

Harry cracked an eye to see the boy's expression. He looked appalled at the very notion. It seemed he had a few more choice words in mind, but Harry didn't have the energy for that anymore. He cut him off before he could protest, a stubborn look in his eyes.

"Though it's not much of a choice since I don't intend to leave you out here in the cold. You could have let me drown in that river, but you didn't abandon me. And I won't abandon you. So, what's it going to be? Are we both going to freeze to death or will you come home with me?"

Draco's expression flickered between anger, confusion, and defeat. "Home?" he scoffed. "You certainly pick weird places to call home."

Harry's mouth twitched into a bitter smile. "Never really thought about it – home has always just been where I happened to be sleeping that night."

Draco was silent. He hadn't answered Harry's question.

"Come on," Harry admonished, tone dripping in sarcasm as he remembered a conversation he had overheard in the infirmary. "Lord Voldemort will be most disappointed if I freeze to death out here before he gets a chance to kill me himself. It would be quite embarrassing if a Death Eater's son were to allow something like that happen, don't you think?"

Draco looked like he was going to protest, but Dobby responded first.

"Dobby gets scared when Harry Potter talks like that," he scolded, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Does he talk like that often?" Draco inquired, eyebrow raised at the undertone of bitterness in the boy's words.

"Madame Pomfrey says that Harry Potter has been 'developing a disconcerting brand of self-deprecating humor.' She asked Dobby to let her know if it becomes too frequent. Dobby has been keeping a mental journal," he whispered conspiratorially.

"You know I can hear you?" Harry informed them. They both ignored him.

"Master Malfoy," Dobby begged, his hand outstretched. "Please say that you will come with us. Harry Potter will be so very happy and Dobby will be happy that Harry Potter did not freeze to death."

"I can still hear you," he reminded them.

Draco eyed the boy suspiciously. Dobby continued to fix him with a pleading look. He gave in, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I guess I don't have much of a choice here." Draco rationalized, taking Dobby's hand. "I'd hate to be found dead in an alley with Harry Potter and his house elf. Could you imagine the rumors then?"

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco had spent the night in a chair by the fireplace. He woke in a foul mood, stiff and sore from his less than desirable sleeping arrangement. To his profound relief, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

A loud knock at the door startled him. He decided to ignore it – not like it would be for him. The knocking continued.

"Draco," Professor Snape called through the door. "I know you're in there."

With an exasperated huff, Draco threw the door open and glared at the man. Professor Snape eyed him with a cool expression.

"Just what do you think you are doing here?" the man questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco smirked arrogantly. "I'm switching sides. I like my chances over here better."

Professor Snape scoffed at the notion. "Don't give me that bullshit. The only side you've ever been on is your own."

"True," he admitted with a shrug. "So, what brings you here?"

"I'm taking you back to Hogwarts," the man stated in a tone that broached no argument.

"The hell you are," Draco stubbornly replied. "I already told you. I'm never going back to that place."

Professor Snape studied him for a while before sighing in defeat. Draco was relieved to have won this argument.

"Suit yourself. If you come to your senses, you know how to find me," he informed before turning to leave, his robes swishing around his legs. He stepped back suddenly in surprise, almost falling down.

"Potter," the man snarled.

Draco peered around him to catch a glimpse of Harry close to the doorway with two tankards of butterbeer in his hands.

"Professor," he nodded curtly, sidestepping the man to enter his room with a sympathetic glance in Draco's direction. Once inside, Draco reached for the door.

"Have a nice day," he taunted, slamming the door in Professor Snape's face before he could say more.

"What was that all about?" Harry inquired, eyebrows lifted as he glanced towards the door.

Draco bristled at how friendly the boy was getting with him. "It's none of your business," he growled.

Harry shrugged it off, unfazed. He set both glasses down on the table and gestured at one of them.

"I brought you something to drink," he explained, picking up his own glass and taking a long draw.

Begrudgingly, Draco crossed the room to take the offered beverage and went back to his chair without another word.

When he was done, he pulled out his sketchpad to continue the drawing he had been working on for his mother – Lily of the Valley; a sweet-smelling, delicate flower but deadly if consumed. He didn't know why he was even bothering. Tears blurred his vision as he worked.

"That's beautiful," Harry whispered, much too close for comfort.

Draco slammed the sketchpad closed and stormed out of the room, leaving Harry floundering.


	17. Christmas or Something Like It

Christmas was here at last. It was odd for Harry not to be awoken by the sound of Ron's excited voice announcing that there were presents to be opened. He rolled over with a groan, stopping when he remembered that someone else was in the bed.

Draco was lying on his back, eyes open wide, staring desolately at the ceiling. After three straight days of Draco complaining about how uncomfortable the chair was, Harry had finally convinced him that the bed was more than big enough for the two of them. Sleeping in a proper bed had made a substantial improvement in Draco's mood and the two had lapsed into something that resembled a begrudging, occasionally explosive, friendship. That's not to say that Draco didn't still have his moments.

With a sigh, Harry slowly got out of bed, deciding to ignore Draco's brooding for the moment. Halfway across the room, he was met head-on by a hyperactive ball of feathers. Pig righted himself, proudly puffing out his chest as he presented his deliveries. A sad looking Errol followed shortly thereafter, careening through the window that had been left open. He hit the floor, flipped tail over head a few times, then crashed rather loudly into the wall, packages still attached.

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed until there were tears in his eyes. Pig was dancing about impatiently, occasionally nipping at his fingers to attract Harry's attention.

"All right, all right," he cried, untying the packages from both birds.

"Here you go," he said, offering each of them a treat. Pig settled down contentedly.

"Now remember not to let Ron and the others know I'm here." They hooted sagely in response. After a long enough rest, the owls returned home, the presents he had purchased for his friends in tow since he had left Hedwig at Hogwarts.

Harry turned to Draco with an amused grin.

"I'm always surprised that they are able to find me. How do they even do that?" he asked.

Draco didn't so much as glance in his direction. Harry worried this was going to be another day where Draco didn't even bother leaving the bed, which as it was Christmas, was a very unsettling thought. Guessing at what might cheer him up, he ran to his trunk and pulled out his present.

"I bought you this," he announced with a slight flush of embarrassment as he held out the box for Draco to take. "Happy Christmas."

Draco's brow crinkled in confusion as he stared at it before shifting into a seated position to get a better view of Harry's face.

"Why?" he asked, voice tight and controlled.

"I was shopping for Hermione when it caught my eye. It made me think of you," Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Draco stiffened, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Harry fiddled with the hem of his pajamas nervously, trying to find a less creepy way to explain himself. "I mean – that's not how I meant it. I got Hermione a butterfly pendant as a thank you for saving my life and – you saved my life too. It only seemed fair," he rambled.

Draco nodded in acknowledgement, accepting his rather weak explanation before tentatively opening the box. He stared at it for a long time, expression unreadable.

"Sorry," Draco finally responded. "I don't have anything for you."

Harry smiled ruefully, "No worries. It's not like you knew you were going to be spending Christmas with me. You had no reason to buy me anything."

Harry studied Draco for a while, trying to decipher the boy's feelings.

"So, do you like it?" he began hesitantly. "If you don't, I can get you something..."

"It's fine," Draco cut him off with a growl, closing the lid on the box and tossing it onto the nightstand.

That was not the reaction that Harry had been hoping for and without meaning to his face fell in disappointment at the thought that Draco hated it. Draco let out a longsuffering sigh when he noticed how emotional Harry was getting.

"Just a second," he grumbled, making his way to the table where his sketchpad sat. He flipped through a few pages, finally stopping on one and ripping it out.

"Here," the blond stated gruffly, shoving the picture at Harry.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat when he realized that it was the drawing that Draco had been working on his first morning there. When Harry made no move to take it, Draco growled at him in irritation. "Well, you liked it, didn't you?"

"I can't," Harry protested, knowing how much it meant to the boy.

After Draco had returned that morning, he had shown Harry the rest of his sketchbook, explaining with an embarrassed blush, that flowers were the only thing he knew how to draw. It was something his mother had taught him and the two had spent countless summer days in the garden together, sketchpads in hand, working on whatever was in bloom that day. Instead of giving his mother flowers, he always drew them for her instead. Harry was touched by how cute that was, but when he had said as much, Draco had threatened him with unspeakable horrors if he revealed his secret to anyone.

"Take it," Draco insisted, expression earnest, leaving Harry no choice.

"Thanks," he replied softly, taking the gift delicately in his shaking hands. Draco flopped in the chair without a word, leaving Harry to deal with the butterflies in his stomach.

"I guess I should open the rest of my presents now," Harry mumbled after finding a safe place for Draco's drawing. It didn't feel right to be opening presents in front of the boy. On the other hand, he couldn't leave the presents there for the rest of eternity. So, one by one, he went through them, acutely aware of Draco's eyes on him.

Fred and George had given him a pouch filled with coins and a note attached.

_ Dear Harry, _

_ This is your cut of the profits for the year. I know you didn't ask for it but seeing as how none of this would have been possible without your help, we feel you deserve it. We don't want to hear any arguments either; just take the money and shut up. _

_ Your friends, _

_ Fred and George _

Ron had given him more candy than he could possibly eat in a lifetime. It would pair nicely with the lifetime supply he already had in his dorm. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed that some of the candy wrappers were already empty.

He got the usual sweater from Mrs. Weasley, which he immediately began to put on until Draco stopped him with a decidedly disgusted look on his face.

"You're not planning on wearing that  _ thing _ ?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, why?" Harry innocently replied.

"Because I don't think I will be able talk to you anymore if you do," he warned.

Harry let out a warm infectious laugh, pulling the sweater on despite the appalled expression on Draco's face.

"I have to wear it – it's tradition."

Draco's eyes widened, clearly mystified as he spoke. "How is wearing an ugly  _ sweater  _ tradition?"

"Six years ago, on Christmas day," Harry proclaimed with a dramatic flourish of his arms. "Mrs. Weasley gifted me a sweater very similar to the one I have on right now. Upon performing the ritual of the sweater, I was accepted as an honorary member of the Weasley family."

Harry's expression turned serious, guilt nipping at him as he thought about 'his family'.

"It was the first time in my life that I had a proper Christmas with a family that loved me," he admitted.

Draco rolled his eyes, missing the significance of Harry's words. "If that's all it takes to become a Weasley, you better keep that blasted sweater far, far away from me. Having absolutely no family is much preferred to becoming a Weasley."

Harry had discovered that Draco tended to be rather dense at times – worse even than Ron, which was saying something. It was best not to take things personally otherwise they would do nothing but fight. Harry shook his head at how hopeless the boy was and decided to move on.

Hermione had given him a muggle book entitled 'Guide to Good Studying Skills' with a note that simply stated, "Good luck on catching up with your school work."

He groaned at the reminder of all the work that remained.

"She like that often?" Draco inquired, studying the book with a thoughtful expression.

"She means well," he replied with a shrug and a weak smile. "I guess it's the thought that counts."

Sighing, he dropped the last present into his trunk without opening it. It was from Lupin and he couldn't even bear to look at it. Draco eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. Harry returned his gaze with a somber expression.

"Draco, will you be fine by yourself?" he inquired. "I have something I need to do."

Harry's eyes grew distant as he mentally prepared himself to deliver his last present – Sirius'.

"Yeah, sure," the blond replied unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

It wasn't until Harry was ready to leave that he finally noticed the sullen expression on the Slytherin's face. He was still learning to interpret the subtle indications of Draco's moods. He often swung wildly between disgust at Harry's very existence and acting aloof to hide how emotionally clingy he was. For the moment, it was clear that Draco didn't want to be left alone today, but his pride wouldn't let him say a thing.

"You can come if you want," Harry offered. "I've just got another present to deliver. Thought you might find it boring."

Draco nodded eagerly, springing out of his chair to dress quickly.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Lupin was standing at his best friend's grave, a sad look on his worn face, his chest heavy with emotion.

"I made it," he announced bitterly. "I'm not going to lie – it's been hard without you here, hard for all of us."

Tears crept down his face as he spoke, his hands shaking at his sides.

"I'm trying to stand-in for you with Harry, but he keeps pushing everyone away. He won't let anyone in. I don't know what to do with him," he choked, thinking about how Harry had given them all the slip a few weeks ago. He had been adamantly against the idea of letting Harry stay at the Leaky Cauldron – it wasn't safe. Headmaster Dumbledore would hear nothing of it, telling him that Harry just needed his space. How important would his space be if he ended up dead? Harry was his last link to his friends, he had to protect him, but the boy wanted nothing to do with him. That realization had stung most of all.

"I'm so alone right now – more alone than I've ever been before. First James and Lily – and now you," he cried, collapsing to the ground in choking sobs. "It hurts so much. I can't..."

He gripped his chest in anguish, the darkness of grief pressing in on all sides. It hurt to breathe, to think, to exist. He thought it would never go away.

It was quite a while before his sorrow had run its course, the darkness draining out of him, leaving behind a numb indifference. He took a deep steadying breath and stood.

"Sorry you had to see me like that," he apologized, wiping the tears away. "I promise to try harder – for myself and for the boy."

He paused to consider what else he needed to say – nothing came to mind. He was emotionally spent.

"Happy Christmas, old friend," he stated woodenly.

He turned and stalked off, not looking up as two people walk passed him.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Lupin didn't look up as they passed. The man was too caught up in his grief to notice anything else. Having overheard the conversation, he felt a pang of guilt for not being there for him. However, he knew in his heart that he wasn't emotionally ready to support someone else. It was a selfish decision, but it was what it was.

"Hey Sirius, I brought someone to meet you," he said, indicating Draco with a smile. "Never thought we'd end up being..." he paused to consider their relationship. "...friends, but I guess things change. Sometimes things don't always work out like you imagined they would."

He paused to swallow the lump forming in his throat. "After all, I imagined that you would be here forever and you're not."

Unbidden, tears crept down his face as he knelt. With his bare hands, he dug out a small hole and placed the tea tree he had brought within it. He didn't know why he had chosen it, except that it was pretty. It had small flowers that looked like miniature antique rosebuds. Once he was done, he leaned a small note against the shrub.

"I don't really know what else to say except that I miss you and that I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I just wish I knew how I could fix everything."

Draco placed a hand comfortingly on Harry's shoulders. He tensed at the unexpected gesture, causing Draco to pull away. Harry smiled apologetically back at the blond, tears trailing down his face. "Sorry," he whispered.

Draco shrugged in discomfort. "It's fine," he replied, glancing around nervously. "Do you think we're done here?"

Harry nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Yeah, I think we are."

He turned toward the grave one last time, heart breaking at the thought that Sirius wasn't truly there.

"Goodbye Sirius. I miss you."


	18. The Tears that Weren't Shed

Hermione carefully opened the box that had arrived from Harry. "At least he hasn't forgot us," she stated mournfully, still feeling a bit bitter.

The day after they had arrived at the Weasley home, they had overheard the adults discussing Harry. He had given everyone the slip and boarded the Hogwarts Express. The Order had spies everywhere and he had been quickly located at the Leaky Cauldron. Everyone was eager to return him to safety, but Dumbledore had interceded. He had asked the Order to stand down and post a guard on Harry instead. There had been quite the uproar and a lot of angry whispers about not wanting a repeat of last summer. Ron and Hermione had been unable to get any details about Harry's summer break, but it was clear something bad had happened. Even Harry refused to talk about it, his eyes going cold every time they brought it up.

Ron was sulking on his bed, his present from Harry tossed angrily to the side.

"Come on Ron. Don't be like that," she scolded, strolling across the room to sit next to him.

"Why Malfoy?" he grumbled, crossing his arms over his knees.

It hadn't taken very long before rumors about the two boys spending their Holiday together had reached The Burrow. Initially, they hadn't put much stock in those rumors as they had been hearing similar all school year. It had felt like a betrayal when those claims had been verified during a heated argument between Professor Snape and Mr. Weasley. It had been a silly argument really, as they both wanted the same thing – the two of them separated. Ron hadn't taken the news well.

"You know how Harry is," she consoled, only half believing it herself as she lay her head on Ron's shoulder. "Takes in strays all the time."

"But why Malfoy?" he repeated.

Hermione shrugged against him, wondering the same thing herself.

She had sort of understood why he ran away from them. That's not to say it didn't hurt, but she understood it. In true Harry fashion, he had been shutting them out for a while now, preferring to solve things on his own. Maybe he felt they were safer that way? Had she been in his shoes, she couldn't say that she wouldn't have done the same. That still didn't mean that it was the right answer. He had too much on his plate for one person to handle all on their own. He might not agree with it, but he needed his friends more than ever.

"Harry's next procedure is in two days," she reminded, shifting so that she could get a better look at Ron's face. "Let's just try to act normal and maybe he'll open up about everything. We're his best friends, we need to be supportive."

"Even when he's being a giant ass?" Ron grumbled.

"Yes, Ron," she admonished. "Even when he's being a giant ass."

"And look," she stated, showing off the butterfly pendant that Harry had sent her. "Does this look like the kind of gift you would buy someone that you wanted to be rid of?"

She smiled warmly at the pendant before putting it on.

Ron didn't say anything, eyes burning holes in the opposite wall.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry was walking down a dark hall – it was horrifyingly familiar. Fog began creeping up from out of nowhere, twirling about in billows as he walked through it. He continued despite knowing what he would find at the end of the hall. His mind was screaming for him to turn back, but his feet weren't responding, nothing was responding. He'd been having dreams like this since the summer, but they were evolving, becoming darker and more violent. His subconscious was constantly finding new ways to torment him.

Sirius was curled up at the end of the hall, his knees pulled to his chest. He had the same look about him as he had soon after escaping from Azkaban – haunted eyes angry and accusing.

Slowly, the man's eyes met Harry's. The lights flickered overhead. With an animal growl, Sirius was up in an instant, his hands firmly clasped around Harry's neck.

"This is all your fault," he snarled. "You're a curse Harry. Everyone who cares about you will suffer and die."

"Go ahead and kill me," Harry croaked out brokenly. He was tired of fighting this fight. It never changed anything. He had begged, cried, argued, fought back – it was all to no avail.

"Oh, I will," Sirius promised. "And I'll save everyone from you."

Sirius tightened his hold, fully closing off air from entering his lungs. His eyes began glistening with unshed tears. On instinct he struggled to breath, but he couldn't – not against the crushing force on his throat. His mouth watered in vain. It seemed as if an eternity had passed before darkness crept across his line of sight.

He shot up from bed, gasping for air, startling Draco into consciousness.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Potter?" he snarled, instinctively being mean at the rather rude awakening. With great effort, he appeared to shove his inner asshole down and put on a mask of concern.

Harry struggled to catch his breath and collect his scattered thoughts. The longer he was awake the more his memories of the dream faded, leaving only a vague feeling of helplessness.

"Are you okay?" Draco inquired after a time.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just a bad dream – I get them sometimes."

"More like all the time, want to talk about it?" Draco offered.

Harry shook his head. "Not particularly."

Draco studied the boy for a long while before lying back down to go to sleep.

Harry got up and crossed the room to tackle some of his school work. Stay busy, stay distracted - that was his mantra.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"You know," Draco mentioned offhandedly. "I can brew you up something for those bad dreams."

Draco was getting fed up with being constantly awoken in the middle of the night, oftentimes because he was being attacked. In desperation, he had gone over his notes on Dreamless Sleep Potion and felt certain that he had enough talent to pull it off without killing the boy. One mistake when brewing it could mean the difference between Dreamless Sleep and Endless Sleep. On the other hand, one more night of being accosted and he thought he might just do the boy in himself. He needed his beauty sleep.

Dreamless Sleep didn't come without its risks though. It was a highly addictive potion that built up to toxic levels with extended use and there was always a chance for accidental overdose. Harry wouldn't be able to use it all the time but getting some restful sleep every now and then would serve him well. They would just have to be careful.

"Sounds good," Harry accepted the offer with an appreciative smile.

Draco was excited at the prospect of sleeping through the night. He just had to find all the ingredients without raising suspicion – it was a restricted potion after all.

"Just give me a couple of hours," Draco replied, crossing to the door quickly with a smile on his face. "I'll be back soon."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Ron and Hermione were seated on a bench, awaiting the news of Harry's procedure. To their surprise, Malfoy was there as well, pacing back and forth down the hall, occasionally eyeing them with a feral look. No one said a word.

When it seemed like Malfoy would wear a track into floor, he finally collapsed onto the bench across from them. Ron glared at the blond. Malfoy ignored him. Hermione was confused by the whole thing.

"So, you and Harry are..." Hermione began, probing the boy for answers.

Malfoy looked alarmed. "No," he exclaimed, face flushing pink. "It's not like that."

Hermione snickered at his reaction. She too had heard the more absurd rumors. "Friends – I was going to say friends."

"Oh," he replied blushing furiously.

Ron continued to glare at the boy. Hermione had given up on trying to convince her boyfriend to reserve judgement until they had all the facts. He remained certain that this was all part of some elaborate plot against Harry. She didn't bother trying to point out the fact that Malfoy could have let Harry drown and then played dumb about it. When Ron was in one of his moods, facts just didn't seem all that important.

"I'm keeping an eye on you," Ron warned. "Harry tries to see the best in people, but I'm not so naïve."

Draco turned calculating eyes on her boyfriend. "You do what you have to," he replied dismissively. "At the end of the day, he spent Christmas with me and not you."

Without warning, Ron launched himself across the room, his fist colliding with Malfoy's face. Malfoy simply wiped the blood off his face without complaint. Hermione was incredibly flustered by the whole situation – both Ron's anger and Malfoy's indifference.

"Feel better?" Malfoy inquired, his smug expression never faltering.

Ron couldn't help himself, he punched the boy again before Hermione could stop him. Malfoy's eye was rapidly swelling shut yet he had made no move to defend himself or retaliate. It seemed like he was antagonizing Ron on purpose, but she couldn't figure out what his intentions were.

Hermione took hold of her boyfriend's arm, pulling him back. "Knock it off, Ron. We don't know the whole story. I'm sure Harry has a good explanation."

Instead of the grateful look she was expecting, Malfoy sneered at her. She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion.

"Did you like your present, Granger?" he asked, pulling out a dragon pendant to show her. "I certainly liked mine."

Hermione bristled at the implication and let out an angry huff. With great difficulty she managed to suppress her murderous inclinations. She was not going to punch the boy in the face like a brute. For whatever reason, he was intentionally trying to get a rise out of them and she refused to play his game.

"Yes, I did," she snarled back. "Harry has always given me very thoughtful presents."

The implications of her statement were clear – she had been Harry's friend for much longer than him.

Draco snorted in response.

Her face flushed in anger. It took everything she had to walk away from the boy, dragging Ron with her. They sat down once more in silence, glaring at one another.

After a time, one of the healers left Harry's room. She eyed Malfoy's injuries suspiciously, excluding him from the conversation as they spoke in hushed tones.

"He's doing great. We addressed all the remaining issues. We'll keep him here for a couple of days until he recovers. This procedure really took a lot out of him, but he's awake now and ready to see you."

Malfoy appeared to have heard what he wanted to hear. He stood up and left the building without a word.

Ron and Hermione exchanged quizzical glances before following the healer into Harry's room. With great effort, Hermione plastered a pleasant smile on her face deciding she could roast Harry alive after he was feeling better.

Harry wasn't buying it, he could see the tension in her posture.

"Sorry about lying to you," he stated simply.

"We'll talk about it later," Hermione replied through gritted teeth.

Ron hung back near the door with a sullen expression. He was never good at hiding his emotions.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired, trying to steer the conversation in the right direction.

Harry gave her a tired look that said it all. "Been better."

He glanced at the door as if expecting someone. Ron gave him a pained look. They both knew who it was he was looking for.

"He was here," Hermione begrudgingly supplied. "He left after hearing you were okay."

Harry at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"It's really complicated," he explained.

"Not that complicated," Ron shot back, losing his temper. "You're falling right into Voldemort's trap – like you always do."

Harry flinched at his words. It was a low blow. Neither boy could even look at one another. The air was thick with emotion. Hermione was at a loss for how to make things right.

The healer that had brought them in cleared her throat, breaking up the silence.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, but Mr. Potter needs his rest now. You can come back during visiting hours tomorrow," she informed.

Ron turned and stormed out without saying goodbye. Hermione shot Harry an apologetic look before chasing after her boyfriend.

Harry studied the door for a long time, expression forlorn.

"Well, that was intense," the healer stated.

"That was only the beginning," Harry replied wearily. "Things are not going to go well tomorrow."

"Guess you should rest up," she recommended.

Harry settled down on the bed with a nod. He was feeling quite exhausted and emotionally raw.

The next day, everyone pretended like nothing had happened. Harry was sure it was Hermione's doing and he was grateful to her.


	19. For the Love of Heights

Dealing with Ron and Hermione had been emotionally draining. Although they kept pretending like everything was okay, there was an undercurrent of tension that poisoned the mood. It was difficult for him to explain both his escape from Hogwarts and his reasons for taking the enemy under his care. So, he didn't try.

Coming back home was a welcome relief. While dealing with Draco wasn't much better, he did have his moments. The boy was rude and moody – simply infuriating at times – but he was also unexpectedly thoughtful and sincere. His most redeeming quality was that he didn't treat Harry like he was walking around with a big sign around his neck counting down the days until he kicked the bucket. He had no problem telling Harry off without feeling guilty about it five seconds later.

As he entered their shared room, Draco glanced up from his sketchpad with dark raccoon eyes. Harry smirked at the bruising. "Ron told me he did a number on you."

"He was feeling inadequate and he needed someone to blame," Draco explained with a haughty expression on his face.

"And you thought it was a good idea to paint a target on your face?" Harry questioned, eyebrow raised.

The blond shrugged nonchalantly. "Old habits."

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh before taking up his usual chair by the fireplace. Draco studied him intently, obviously mulling a few ideas over in his head. Harry pretended not to notice.

"You good now?" Draco inquired at last.

Harry smiled bitterly at the thought – good was such a relative term. With the nightmares, his friend's suspicions, and his impending doom weighing heavily on his mind, he was far from good.

"For the most part," Harry replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. "They want me to put some more weight on and keep working on getting my strength up."

"But you're cleared to return to normal activities?" Draco pestered further.

Harry eyed him suspiciously before asking, "What have you got in mind?"

Draco smiled mischievously back at him. "Thought you might be itching to get back on a broom. I know I am. Neither of us have been on one in almost two months, ever since..." he trailed off. They both knew the reasons – Harry got sick and Draco quit the team.

"How?" Harry inquired, assuming Draco had a plan.

"Ever been to an Air Park?" the blond asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Me neither," Draco explained. "It's a type of wizard park for broom riding. They are warded against muggles and there's supposed to be a big one just outside of London. It has obstacle courses set up and brooms that you can rent. Should be a lot of fun. I've always wanted to go to one, but my father wouldn't hear of it. 'Air Parks are for wizards who are too poor to afford enough land to fly on their own property' is what he would always say."

Harry was surprised that Ron had never mentioned an Air Park before. Then again, the Burrow had enough land for flying. Maybe it was just an urban thing.

"Sounds fun," Harry replied, eyes sparkling in excitement.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry hollered as he launched himself into the sky. He felt exhilarated. Being on a broom again felt as natural as breathing.

Draco pulled up beside him, cheeks rosy from the cold.

"I take it you're happy?" he inquired loudly over the rush of wind.

"Deliriously so," Harry exclaimed in wonder, coming to a stop in mid-air. He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath of clean winter air before starting the obstacle course in front of them.

He had done a few obstacle courses as a child, but never one on broom. It was a different sort of challenge than what he was used to. There were hoops to fly through, bars to fly over or under, walls to climb up and then dive down, and pillars to dodge. He found it all very exciting. His mood was through the roof for the first time in forever.

With a slight adjustment, he dropped into a dive. Draco followed. He pulled up inches above the ground and reached down, dragging his hand through the snow. When a sizeable amount of snow had gathered in his hand, he spun around with a smile and launched the snowball at Draco's face. Draco dodged it effortlessly.

"It's a shame you decided to quit the team," Harry informed him. "You're not half-bad."

Draco let out a bitter laugh. "All things being equal, I'm still not better than you – that's all that counts. No one ever remembers second best."

Harry was beginning to regret that he had brought the subject up, he had been hoping to encourage the boy, not discourage him. They flew in uncomfortable silence through the next course.

Once at the end, Draco pulled out in front of Harry with a penetrating stare. "How did you do it?" he questioned earnestly

Harry gazed back in bewilderment. "Do what?"

"Get so good," Draco explained. "Like what kind of training did you do? Did you work with any professionals? Did you set up a drill schedule?"

Harry shook his head guiltily. "No, none of that."

Draco's brow drew together in confusion. "So, what then?"

Harry shrugged timidly. He had no answer for the boy.

"Did you even train at all?" Draco exploded incredulously.

Harry sheepishly turned away. "A little bit. I would do drills with the team twice a week, but those were more to work on the fine handling skills that the other players required. As far as specific seeker skills, what kind of training should I have been doing?"

Draco's mouth was agape. "Fuck, Harry. It's just not fair for someone to be born that good. I worked my ass off and you just...just frolicked about on a broom all these years? I kind of want to punch you right now."

Harry chuckled as a thought occurred to him.

"Come to think of it, punching would probably only make me better. My lightening fast reflexes were honed over many years of escaping the incoming fists of bullies that were twice my size. It's why I'm so light on my feet."

Draco gave him an appraising look. Harry lit up with a malicious grin.

"If you're interested, I could introduce you to them?" he offered, teasingly. "Dudley and the gang wouldn't mind roughing up a pretty boy like you."

Harry paused to consider the ramifications of his next comment. "Although it looks like Ron already beat them to the punch...quite literally."

Harry's eyes were twinkling with mirth. Draco glowered at him.

"What kind of messed up childhood did you have?" he asked with an angry shake of his head.

"The character-building kind," Harry replied with a self-deprecating smile. "Lots of beatings, chores, and hand-me-downs. It's why I'm so well-rounded."

The blond narrowed his eyes, considering the nature of Harry's retort.

"At this rate," Draco warned. "Dobby's going to run out of room in his mental journal."

They both glanced over at the house-elf who had been wringing his hands anxiously from the sidelines the whole time. Dobby shifted nervously under their attention. They dissolved into uproarious fits of laughter, barely staying atop their brooms.

"Harry Potter should come in now," the house elf shouted disapprovingly. "Harry Potter is not yet fully recovered."

"He does have a point," Draco conceded, hand pressed against the stitch in his side as he straightened.

"It's only been like five minutes," Harry complained loudly, not quite ready to call it quits.

"Harry Potter is mistaken," Dobby corrected. "It has been an hour, thirteen minutes, and fifty-three seconds. Dobby has been keeping track."

He knew there was no point in arguing with Nurse-Maid Dobby. It hadn't felt like they had been flying for over an hour, but if he defied the house elf, the creature had ways of making Harry bend to his will. House elf magic was truly a force to be reckoned with.

With a sigh of defeat, Harry flew back to the rental kiosk to return the broom, Draco right behind him. Dobby nodded in approval as he made his way over to them.

"Okay, Dobby," Harry announced taking the house elf's hand. "Do your thing."

"And Dobby," he added as an afterthought. "Please don't forget Draco this time."

It had only been the one time, but Draco had been furious for most of the day – well, what had been left of the day when he finally made it back. The botanical gardens that Harry had shown him were quite a distance from the Leaky Cauldron. If Harry hadn't fainted, Dobby wouldn't have panicked thus leaving Draco to figure out things on his own, but then they wouldn't have this funny story to tease Draco with.

The house elf gave him a mischievous smile. "Dobby wouldn't dream of it, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why it seems like Dobby is simply appearing and disappearing as it suits the needs of the plot, it is because he was given explicit instructions to watch out for Harry but to also give him a lot of personal space. Years of serving under the Malfoys have made Dobby quite good at blending in with the background. He only steps in when he feels that Harry's health is at risk.


	20. Hot and Cold

Harry was tossing fretfully in his sleep, tears streaming silently down his face. It pained Draco to see him like that, but he just didn't feel right giving him more Dreamless Sleep Potion, especially when he discovered he had been receiving it while at St. Mungo's. He needed time to detox or else it would slowly kill him.

He brushed messy bangs out of the boy's face and Harry settled slightly at Draco's touch. Frowning, Draco moved closer to the him, noting that Harry relaxed further the closer he got. Harry still looked distressed, but he wasn't tossing and turning anymore. Maybe it was the warmth of Draco's presence that soothed him?

When they woke up the next morning, Harry was confused by the fact that Draco's back was pressed against his side, but he felt like he'd been able to fully sleep for the first time in weeks.

"Morning," Draco announced with a sleepy yawn, unperturbed by Harry's confused expression. "You were crying in your sleep," he explained. "You stopped when I got close to you. Sorry about that, but I needed my sleep too. So..." He shrugged, indicating their close proximity with a dismissive wave of his hands.

"Oh," Harry replied uncertainly.

"Want to go to the Air Park again?" Draco asked, hesitating briefly at the strange expression on Harry's face.

"Uh... sure. Sounds like a good plan. I just need to get some of my school work done first or Hermione might actually kill me. I imagine they're both still pissed off at me and since we go back to school in just a couple of days..." He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders. "No need to throw gasoline on the fire."

"I can help if you need," Draco offered.

"It's fine," Harry responded dismissively. "I can do it on my own."

Draco eyed him in suspicion, worried he'd crossed some sort of line by soothing him in his sleep. "Are you mad at me?" he questioned suddenly.

"What?" he sputtered in surprise. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"It's just... never mind. Finish your school work and I'll sketch some of the flowers we saw last week. Afterwards, we can go flying and practice more of the drills I did with my private instructor... unless you prefer your method of Quidditch practice," he teased, holding up his fists to indicate what he meant.

Harry unexpectedly smiled. "I'd be better than you at that too," he shot back in a self-assured drawl.

Draco smirked back at him, falling easily into their usual banter. "Tch. Your punches are more like cotton balls," he announced with a scoff.

"Cotton balls that break noses," Harry teased.

"That's only because of your moronic animal strength," Draco retorted. “You’re practically sub-human.”

“You’re just jealous,” Harry continued. “It’s fine. It happens to me a lot.”

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry’s antics. “That bloated ego of yours will be the death of you,” he warned.

“Probably,” Harry conceded with a shrug before sullenly heading over to the desk in their room and pulling out a few textbooks.

Something had happened there, something strange. Draco couldn’t wrap his head around Harry’s ever-changing moods.

“I’ve decided to go back to Hogwarts,” Draco announced, interrupting Harry’s studies.

The boy turned to him with a grin. “Why’d you change your mind?”

“Just thought since I’m not going to be the Head of the Malfoy family anymore, I need to come up with a new plan for my future. Can’t get a job if I don’t have a proper education.”

A shadow briefly crossed Harry’s face, but he kept the smile artificially fixed to his face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Draco let out a sigh before heading to his usual chair, sketchpad in hand. Dealing with Harry’s moods was absolutely exasperating at times.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry was pacing back and forth in a state of advanced agitation.

“Just got a letter from The Order. The car to take us back to Hogwarts will arrive tomorrow at 9 AM,” he announced with a frown. “I’m just assuming you’re included, but it didn’t say anything.”

“It’s fine,” Draco soothed. “If not, I can find my own transportation. It’s not like I’m completely useless.”

“Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?” Harry blurted out in reference to his friends. “I mean, it was pretty terrible what I did to them. What if they hate me?”

“If they hated you, they wouldn’t have visited you at St. Mungo’s,” Draco replied with a sigh. No matter how many times they went over this subject, Harry still seemed convinced that his friends would hold a grudge. It was getting old.

“But…”

"Fuck, Harry," Draco exclaimed at last, nerves frayed. "If you don't stop freaking out about tomorrow, then I'm going to make sure that you don't get a tomorrow."

"But, I just know that everyone is still upset with me," Harry complained, a hurt look on his face at Draco’s sharp tone.

"Oh no," Draco bemoaned dramatically. "The Mudblood and the Weasel don't want to be your friend anymore. That must be the worst. Whatever will you do?"

Harry bristled and shot Draco a murderous glare. "That's rich coming from the guy who was all like, 'I don't want to go back to Hogwarts, everyone is going to be mean to me. Can't I just stay here and mooch some more?'"

Now it was Draco's turn to bristle. "At least your friends will eventually come around," he growled bitterly. "I've got nothing but vipers to return to. They're going to kill me." He gave Harry an anguished expression, but there was a fire in the boys eyes that seemed undeterred.

"Who could blame them really?" Harry pointed out, not pulling any punches. "Were you ever actually friends with any of them or were they just a means to an end?"

Draco's eyes widened in shock as Harry continued unabashedly.

"You use people, Draco. Why bother pretending like you care?"

Although the accusation was not far from the truth, it still hurt Draco to hear it. Hurt turned to anger as Draco glared at the boy he had assumed was his friend.

"Says the boy who keeps getting people killed," he snarled.

Harry looked like he’d taken a punch to the gut. Draco knew all about Harry's nightmares – nightmares that had only gotten worse after Draco had cut him off from the Dreamless Sleep Potion. It was a low blow, one that he instantly regretted the moment the words left his mouth. He wanted to backpedal, but he didn’t know where to begin.

"At least people care enough about me to make those sacrifices," Harry hissed. "Who do you have?"

Draco faltered, unsure of himself, Harry's unwavering glare piercing him to his very soul.

"If you find my presence so intolerable," Draco wondered aloud, clinging to the hurt he felt in this moment in order to distract himself from the sick feeling settling in his stomach, "then why did you force me to come here?"

"Force you?" Harry snorted incredulously. "I only invited you here because I was under the impression that you had nowhere else to go. Turns out that was a lie. Wasn't it? Professor Snape offered to take you in, but you turned him down. You..."

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco shouted, cutting the other boy off with a wounded expression. "I didn't ask for this. Next time you want play the saint, just leave me the hell out of it."

Draco gathered his things and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry's insides went cold. He'd let the stress of the situation bring out the worst in him. The two had been fighting with one another for so long that he had simply slipped back into old habits the minute things got heated. He had no idea how he was going to make things right between them or if he should even try. After all, things at school would be better if they kept their distance from one another. Perhaps this turn of events was for the best, but he couldn't shake the image of Draco's face right before he stormed out.


	21. The Golden Trio Once More

Draco never came back; his absence the next morning was keenly felt. Harry was drowning in guilt over the things that he had said. He couldn't help but wonder what Draco was up to. Would he return to Hogwarts or not? Harry certainly hadn't given him any reason to.

He jumped at the sound of a knock on his door. It had to be the Order. Once they had located him, he was forced into an agreement with Headmaster Dumbledore. He could stay at the Leaky Cauldron, but they would be posting a guard on him. Part of that agreement also included allowing the Order to escort Harry back to Hogwarts. Recent intelligence reports had called into question the safety of the Hogwart's Express.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Ron and Hermione waiting on the other side.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione mumbled nervously. "They said we could ride with you."

Ron gave him a weak smile.

"Just give me a second," Harry replied, his heart thundering frantically in his chest as he turned to grab his things.

Dobby rushed to his side. "Please, let Dobby handle this," he begged, grabbing Harry's trunk. "Harry Potter should go be with his friends."

"Thanks Dobby." Harry smiled half-heartedly. "You've been an immense help to me."

Dobby took a few deep breaths to hold back the flood of tears that were threatening to break through. "Dobby was happy to do it. Harry Potter is Dobby's dearest friend."

Harry winced internally. He hadn't been a good friend to anyone lately. Certainly not to Dobby, not to Draco, and not... He glanced guiltily at his other two  _ friends _ . They were shifting anxiously in the doorway.

"Lead the way," he requested with forced cheerfulness. They both smiled wanly back at him and started walking down the hall, leading him to a vehicle parked out front.

It appeared to be just your typical black four-door sedan on the outside, but the inside was more like a luxury private jet. There was a bar at one end and several different sections of seating. Ron and Hermione made their way to a cluster of chairs that Ginny and Neville were already seated at. A few members of the Order sat far enough away to allow them some privacy. Once over his initial shock, Harry took the seat next to Neville and across from Ron and Hermione.

His skin was crawling under Ron's intense scrutinizing gaze.

"So, where's Malfoy?" Ron inquired at last. "Did the bastard finally show his true colors?"

Harry felt his stomach twist into guilty knots. "No," he muttered regretfully. "I did."

"Eh, the wanker probably had it coming," Ron replied with an indifferent shrug.

"Not really," Harry corrected, his expression morose.

Ron grumbled, but didn't say anything more. Everyone was on edge – tension so thick that it made him nervous to even breathe too loudly.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Ginny blurted abruptly, unable to bear another second of awkward silence. "How are you feeling?"

Neville gaped at her incredulously.

"Better," Harry admitted sullenly.

Hermione gave Ginny a reassuring smile and took up the next line of questioning. "Did you make any progress with your schoolwork?"

Harry looked at her with a pained expression that said it all. She scrunched up her face in thought.

"How much do you have left, maybe I can help?" she offered.

"About two weeks' worth," he mumbled.

She smiled brightly at him, trying to lighten the mood. "That's not too bad. We can finish that up in no time. We can meet up after class in the library and..." she had begun to ramble.

"Please don't," he interrupted. "I can do it on my own."

"Oh," she whispered softly, a hurt look appearing on her face. Seeing Hermione's sad expression set Ron on edge. He flushed angrily, glaring at his friend.

"What is your problem lately?" the red-head exploded. "Too good for us or something?"

Harry had been expecting this to happen eventually. It was just like Ron to jump to the wrong conclusions. His rage had been threatening to boil over for a while. Hermione could only restrain it for so long before it erupted. Harry buckled under the intensity of Ron's fury.

"That's not it at all," he explained, eyes downcast as he struggled with his emotions. "I'm just tired of you guys always fussing over me. It's not your job."

"Well someone has to," Hermione admonished. "Because you're certainly not."

He gave her an exasperated look that she ignored as she continued to rant.

"You almost died, Harry!" she exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what that did to me? To us?"

He sheepishly turned away, mumbling, "I know – I just – I'm not..."

He trailed off, struggling in vain to identify and put his feelings into words. His thoughts were in disarray, his tired brain was refusing to work properly. He hadn't been sleeping well.

Unbidden, the memory of last night's dream played out.

Sirius' hands were wrapped tightly around his throat. Cold dead eyes bore into him.

"When will you ever learn, Harry? Everyone who gets close to you will suffer and die," he taunted. "Let me end it for you?"

Harry nodded his acceptance. Bony fingers dug into the flesh of his neck. His breathing became erratic.

Neville's hand on his shoulder brought him crashing back to reality. All eyes were on him. His expression darkened.

"If you get close to me, you'll just end up getting hurt," he whispered ominously.

"That's not true, Harry," Hermione assured him, expression softening.

Harry gave her a dubious look, about to argue with her assessment when she cut him off.

"And even if it is true," she continued authoritatively. "That's not your choice to make – it's ours. We would be opposing Voldemort with or without you. Cutting us out of your life will not protect us from that."

Harry had come to terms with his fate over summer break. Accepting his eventual death had been easier than he could have ever imagined. What he had difficulty accepting was all the collateral damage his destiny was inflicting. If he stayed near them, they would die – just like... He struggled to push the memory down to no avail, he'd been avoiding thinking about it for so long.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Aunt Petunia's bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house in the wee hours of the morning. Harry was already bounding down the steps to find out what was happening outside. The front doorway stood wide; he could already see the blood from the end of the hallway. Aunt Petunia was shaking like a leaf, hand covering her mouth, eyes wide in horror. A few cautious steps down the hall and he understood the reason for her scream. Tommy's body, or what was left of it, was strewn in pieces across the front of the house. Three members of The Order stood out front with their backs to the house, wands in hand, guarding against another attack, a fallen death eater at their feet.

Dumbledore had decided that it was best if Harry stayed with his relatives until a more suitable safe house was found. Several members of The Order were assigned to keep watch on them while those arrangements were being made. One of them had been Tommy Shanklin.

He was an older man who had lost his muggleborn wife during Voldemort's last rise to power, forcing him to raise three boys all on his own. Two of them were members of The Order and the third worked for the Ministry. He was so proud of them and talked about them quite frequently.

If not for Tommy's company, Harry would have gone insane. With everything that had happened, he was having trouble processing it all. It helped that he had someone to talk it over with. It was nice having someone around that just treated him like a normal teenager, like a son even.

But now, the only reason he knew these were pieces of Tommy was because he recognized the wedding ring on the bloody hand that was lying on their doormat.

One of the three Order members turned back to check on him. With a sick feeling building in his stomach, Harry realized that it was Tommy's oldest son. He ran to the hallway bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, violently dry-heaving when there was nothing else there. How could he ever face them again?

When no further attack was attempted, it was decided that Harry should be moved immediately. His family was moved to a different location. They felt it was safer that way, less dangerous. Harry wondered who was in danger - him or them?

After that, his nightmares had taken a turn for the worst. It had been a regular occurrence for him to relive Sirius' or Cedric's death in his dreams. He half-expected to start dreaming about Tommy's death as well, but that was not what happened. Instead, his subconscious had taken on the form of his Godfather, warning him to keep his friends away, offering to kill him. It was getting harder and harder for him to tell truth from dreams.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry blinked away tears, taking in the determined expressions on the faces of his friends. Trying to protect them when they refused to keep themselves safe was a pointless fight – there was no winning. They were going to do what they wanted, and he couldn't stop them no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

As if he hadn't been seeing his friends properly for a long time, he finally took notice of them – noticed their haggard appearance, the weariness in their shoulders, the shadows under their eyes. He had been so absorbed with his own feelings that he hadn't really bothered to consider their feelings. They had been walking on eggshells around him, afraid to give substance to their fears, pretending everything was alright. He had shunned their concerns, shutting himself off from them, growing irritated with them when they pushed back. It hadn't been fair to them.

He felt himself slipping, becoming overwhelmed by emotions he had not allowed himself to feel, shaking against the force of it as tears ran unchecked down his face. He felt so miserable, so ashamed of how he'd been behaving.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed bitterly. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

Hermione launched herself at him, wrapping him up in a tearful embrace. Harry buried his face in her shoulder, letting her comfort him.

"Just promise me you'll stop being so stupid," she scolded, her voice thick with emotion.

Harry nodded against her, not trusting his voice just yet.

"And no more secrets," Ron added for good measure, wiping tears off his face.

After their emotions had settled, Harry finally told them what had happened during his summer break and about the dreams he'd been having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on a roll. I knocked this one out the day after the last but delayed posting it to go back through the story. I am sorry to have withheld it so long. Someone told me my story was crap and it really threw off my game. I had to go back over the previous chapters several times to nitpick at them. I'm not as confident as I pretend to be.


	22. It's a Hard Knock Life

Draco was wandering the streets of Diagon Alley, fuming. He was ashamed of himself for having believed that Potter's kindness was more than just an obligatory gesture. It shouldn't have bothered him so much. The fact that it did made things significantly worse. What had he been thinking?

It wasn't long before Professor Snape appeared, eyeing him distastefully.

"Have you finally put an end to that foolishness?" the man inquired.

"How'd you know?" Draco exclaimed, surprised at the man's sudden arrival.

"Word travels fast," he explained, shrugging nonchalantly. "Now, will you be returning with me to Hogwarts or not? My patience with you is wearing thin. I won't be asking again. And just to be clear, you are not well suited for a life on the streets, so choose wisely."

Draco's lips twisted in thought, considering his options. While it was true that he needed to continue his education, did it need to be Hogwarts? Transferring in the middle of the year would be difficult. Difficult, but not impossible.

"Fine," the boy growled after much deliberation. "Too close to the start of a new term to change schools now."

Severus gave him a curt nod, before transporting the two back to Hogwarts.

At least he could go back to sleeping in his own bed. No more getting attacked by a restless Gryffindor.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry let out a relieved sigh when he caught sight of Draco crossing over to the Slytherin table. He had spent a good amount of time worried about what had become of the boy. The blond sat by himself with a scowl and started serving himself breakfast.

Ron followed where he was looking and tensed angrily.

"Just forget about it Harry. He's not worth the trouble," he spat.

Harry didn't bother to reply. Ron would never understand. In saving Harry, Draco had lost everything. Another person he had hurt simply by existing. Just thinking about it made him lose his appetite. He poked apathetically at his breakfast.

Noticing the attention he was receiving from the Gryffindor table, Draco shot the trio an angry glare. They hurriedly glanced away, expressions guilty.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Several students were lounging in chairs, studying or gossiping. The entire room quieted as he entered, crossing toward an unoccupied chair in the Slytherin Common Room.

"Seat's taken," Theodore Nott announced as he approached.

Draco curled his lip in displeasure, changing course for a different chair.

"That one too," Nott pointed out.

A few of the girls started giggling. Draco stiffened. He might not be a Malfoy anymore, but he still had his pride as a man. Despite the warning, he sat in the chair.

"Hey fag," Nott snarled. "Didn't you hear what I said? Seat's taken – they're all taken."

Draco ignored him and took out his Potions homework. Nott launched to his feet, closing the distance quickly. Draco was yanked out of his chair by his shirt collar.

On reflex, Draco sneered at the boy. "I suggest that you take your hands off me before you regret it," he warned, flashing his Prefect's badge.

Nott snorted in disbelief, shoving the blond to the ground next to the chair. Before Draco could get back up, Nott pounced, straddling him, pinning his arms to his sides with his legs. Draco struggled to break free.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Draco asked incredulously, not yet appreciating the severity of the situation.

"Teaching you a lesson," Nott replied, a lewd expression on his face, his hips grinding suggestively against Draco's. "Isn't this how you like it?"

Draco shuddered in disgust, his skin crawling at the obscene contact.

"Or does Potter prefer bottom?"

Draco tried in vain to gain enough leverage to throw the larger boy off. A few of the students turned away, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but no one stepped in. Nott leaned in close, cutting off his view of the rest of the room, hot breath on Draco's face.

"Let's see if Potter still wants you after I ruin your pretty face," he whispered in his ear, pulling out a knife from inside his robes.

With a sharp intake of breath as he caught sight of the blade, Draco began his struggle anew. He noticed shoes shuffling by out of the corner of his eye. Several students had decided to leave rather than witness the gruesome show. His panicked brain registered the fact that no one would be coming to his rescue. He struggled to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't show any weakness. Strength was the only thing these kinds of people respected.

Draco winced as the knife dug a bloody path down the hollow of his cheek. He fought to keep his expression neutral, his breathing steady, his eyes dry. He let out a brief sigh of relief before Nott started work on the other side of his face. Blood trickled passed his ear, tickling the back of his neck, the wounds on his face burning angrily.

"There – much better," Nott announced, leaning back to admire his work.

With a satisfied expression on his face, he stood up, giving Draco a quick kick in the ribs before he strolled off. The few remaining students eyed him warily, wondering what he was going to do.

Draco knew this was only the beginning. If Nott was bold enough to try something like this on the first day back, then it wouldn't be long before the others were emboldened.

Draco began to laugh – at first bitterly and then manically. The other students shifted uneasily in their seats.

"If I make it to the end of the year, I'll end up a better Seeker than Potter," he proclaimed with a lopsided grin.

It was too much for the rest of them. They opted to give Draco some space and left the Common Room, clearly thinking he had gone mad.

A few minutes later, Blaise returned from lunch. He took in Draco's condition with a frown. "What happened to you?"

"Quidditch practice," the blond replied still grinning. "My grandmother will be most disappointed – I've ruined my pretty face."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco was surveying the damage in a mirror. Professor Snape had provided him with a healing salve to treat the injury. It was now caked thickly over the wounds.

"Do you think its going to scar?" he asked, his vanity getting the best of him.

Professor Snape gave the boy an appraising look.

"I think you'll be fine," he replied. "It should be completely healed within a day or two."

"Thanks," Draco replied, handing the container of healing salve back to his Professor.

Snape waived his hand dismissively, a rare sympathetic expression on his face. "Keep it. I can make more. It's a recipe I developed when I was about your age. It can be used to treat cuts, burns, bruises, and scrapes. I have a feeling you'll be needing it."

Draco bowed his head in gratitude.

"Try to be more careful the next time you practice Quidditch," the man warned with a smirk.

"I'll try," he replied with a rueful grin, both knowing full well that it wasn't Quidditch that had caused his injuries. Professor Snape was smart enough to know not to pry. This was something he had to handle on his own. Getting the teachers involved would only make things worse.

"I'm sure things will get better once the rumors die down," Severus reassured. "Just promise me that you'll stay the hell away from Potter."

"No problem there," Draco replied matter-of-factly.

<<<<<   >>>>>

_Dearest Narcissa,_

_I am watching over the boy as you requested. Things have been rough for him, but we expected as much. Draco has shown remarkable courage in the face of adversity. You would be quite proud of him. I think he will grow into a fine young man._

_Please keep me in the loop on how things are going on your end. As much as it hurts to watch the boy struggle, I think you made the right decision. Draco is poorly suited to the kinds of political maneuvering necessary to prevent civil war amongst the Pureblood Families._

_Your Loyal Friend,_

_Severus Snape_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Draco. At least he can appreciate the humor of the situation. Unfortunately, I foresee a lot of "Quidditch practice" in his future. If you don't get the reference, please refer to a previous chapter entitled For the Love of Heights. In it, Harry speculates that his quick reflexes on the field were the result of years of dodging bullies.
> 
> Also, as I am rapidly catching up to what is already available on Wattpad, I will be slowing down my posting schedule to 1-2 times a week. If you get really impatient, you can skip ahead. My username is @OpalRainDragon . Feel free to vote if you feel so inclined.


	23. Dream A Little Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: The effects of the Dreamless Sleep Potion in this and subsequent chapters are modeled after the effects of opium use. If you struggle with substance abuse, you might want to flee in terror.

****Ron woke with a start – Harry was screaming hysterically in his sleep, arms flailing. This was the fifth night in a row. The other boys had begun casting silencing wards around their beds before they went to sleep, but Ron had opted not to. He wanted to know when his best friend needed him.

He shook the boy violently. "Harry, Harry, wake up. It's just a bad dream."

Harry's eyes met his with a haunted expression – he was shaking like a leaf, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked in concern.

Harry swallowed hard, shaking his head, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks.

He flung himself unexpectedly at Ron, clinging desperately to the larger boy. "Please promise me," he cried. "Promise me you won't get yourself killed. For once, don't be brave. Just take Hermione and run."

Ron pushed the boy away so that he could look him in the eyes. "What are you talking about, Harry? It was just a dream. We're fine – we're both fine."

Harry took a few shuddering breaths, the haunted look slowly fading from his eyes as he returned to reality.

"Of course," he agreed dumbly. "It was just a dream."

Ron nodded, settling his friend back under the covers. Feeling unnerved, he returned to his own bed, occasionally glancing over. Harry's eyes remained wide open hours later when Ron finally dozed off.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry poked at the food on his plate, occasionally gumming a few bites. His face was pale, dark circles shadowed his eyes – he didn't look well. With a sigh, he stood to leave, shuffling like a zombie out the big double doors of the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

"He's hardly sleeping," Ron whispered frantically. "Last night he woke up screaming and made me promise not to get myself killed."

Hermione was alarmed at Harry's worsening condition. It wasn't supposed to be like this – they had talked. So why?

"I think he's losing it, Hermione," Ron squeaked.

"It's fine," she assured him. "We'll figure this out. Something has to be triggering it."

She wracked her brain while they continued with breakfast, trying to pull together everything that Harry had told them about his nightmares. There was one underlying theme – everyone he knew would suffer because of him. It was a ludicrous notion to accept responsibility for the actions of others but that was just how Harry operated – he did feel responsible for everything that happened around him. He refused to see that he was not to blame for those events. She just wanted to hug him and never let go, knowing in her heart that he was like this because of the way the Dursely's had always blamed him every time something bad happened.

From out of the blue, she was struck by a realization – for all Malfoy's faults, Harry had seemed like he was doing better while they were together. As much as it pained her to admit it, she knew she needed to get Malfoy's input on the situation. Ron may not trust the boy, but he had shown genuine concern for their friend.

Her face hardened in resolve. "I'm going to talk to Malfoy about it," she announced.

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice. "You're what?" he exclaimed when he was done coughing.

She gave him a reproachful look and sighed. "Please don't make me say it again. I don't like it any better than you."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Hermione pulled Malfoy aside with an anxious expression. The boy sneered in disgust at the hand on his sleeve, obviously wishing it wasn't there.

"Listen," she sighed. "I don't know what happened between the two of you – and frankly I don't want to know. It's just that..." she trailed off, hesitating for a moment to reconsider. Was involving Malfoy really a good idea?

"What?" Malfoy spat, clearly disturbed by the situation and looking like he desperately wanted to leave.

"It's just – Harry isn't sleeping anymore," she blurted out at last.

"Nightmares?" he inquired with an irritated sigh.

Hermione nodded, relieved that he understood the situation. If Draco knew, then he had to have given it some thought already.

"What should we do?" she pleaded, hoping he had figured something out.

Draco stiffened, expression turning bitter. "Why the hell should I care? I've got my own problems to deal with."

He stormed off, leaving Hermione feeling heartbroken and alone. Malfoy was the one topic that Harry had not opened up about. Whatever had happened between them, it was obvious that there were still a lot of fresh wounds on both sides.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco was leaning against the wall opposite the door when Harry exited the classroom. Their eyes met – Harry's clouded with guilt.

"What's that look for?" Draco growled.

Draco had spent most of Potions deliberating on his next course of action. A few glances in Harry's direction confirmed the poor state the boy was in. He was so out of it that he almost blew up the potion he was working on. A quick wand flourish from Professor Snape was the only thing that saved him. It was then that he had finally decided he would try to help, if only for the sake of everyone else in their class.

Harry broke eye contact, studying his feet anxiously. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"That again?" Draco snorted, having grown tired of Harry's frequent attempts to apologize every time they ran into each other. "If you're feeling guilty, you can take those feelings elsewhere. I don't need your help and I don't need your pity."

"It's not like that," Harry replied pleadingly. "What I said – I didn't mean it like that."

Draco scoffed. "Just stop, Potter. You're embarrassing yourself. I'm already over it."

Harry fiddled with his robes nervously, eyes downcast. "Then why are you here?" he asked hesitantly.

Draco held him in his sights for longer than was necessary, trying to choose his words carefully. He wasn't going to give this boy a chance to hurt him again. Harry gazed up at him from under his messy bangs, his expression vulnerable – hopeful even.

"Still having nightmares?" he finally asked.

Harry nodded.

"You really are hopeless," Draco grumbled, shaking his head in disdain.

"You and me both," Harry replied, indicating the now faded scars on Draco's face.

Draco hesitated, wondering if he was making the right decision. If he went through with what he was thinking, he wouldn't be doing the boy any favors in the long run.

"Listen," Draco muttered, voice soft. "I'll brew you up another batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, a smile forming on his face.

"Don't think for a second this makes us friends," Draco warned. "I just don't want to die in some freak accident during Potions class. You really are a menace, Potter."

Harry smiled warmly at him despite the threat. "Thank you so much."

Draco bristled at the smile, chaffing at the idea that he was making the boy happy. "Leave," he snarled. "Before I change my mind."

<<<<<   >>>>>

Like he had months ago, Draco was lying in wait for Harry after the boy's remedial potions lesson. Harry exited looking dead on his feet – sweaty and unsettled – definitely not the look of someone leaving a potions lesson. Why had he not noticed this sooner? It was painfully obvious that there was more to these ' _lessons_ ' than they had been letting on. What was his Godfather up to?

Harry smiled weakly at him, wiping sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

"Here," Draco growled, shoving a cloth bag full of vials at Harry's face. "Take them."

Harry didn't hesitate, clutching the vials to his chest with a sigh of relief. Draco curled his lip in disgust.

"I hope I don't have to remind you that you should use them sparingly," he warned. "You'll end up killing yourself if you don't."

"I know," he mumbled only half-listening as he wandered off.

Draco rolled his eyes at his retreating form. What did he care if the boy killed himself? They weren't friends. His stomach hadn't gotten the message though – he felt sick with unease. Something about the boy's behavior made him instantly regret his decision.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco might think they weren't friends, but the amount of affection Harry had for the boy at that particular moment was overwhelming. Sleep – dreamless, restful sleep – there was no better gift in the world.

Surreptitiously, he pulled out the stopper on one of the vials and threw back the contents, savoring the bittersweet taste. A warm, peaceful feeling spread throughout his body as his head floated gently to his pillow, his grip on the vial loosening as it fell from his hands and rolled under the bed. He felt like he was drifting lazily through a warm spring day – so content he thought he could happily stay that way forever.


	24. Love Me, Hate Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter might be triggering to some. It deals with substance abuse and there is a graphic male/female sex scene. You have been warned.

Harry frowned at the two remaining vials in his pouch. He had not, as Draco had recommended, used them sparingly. Between his yearning for a dreamless sleep and his desperate need to feel at peace, he had lost track of his usage. A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he pulled the drawstring closed and shoved the pouch under his pillow – tonight he would have to face his demons.

Ron was snoring loudly in the next bed over. Harry resisted the urge to crawl in next to him. He was just so alone – and so terrified. He didn't want to see them die again. His chest tightened in apprehension, his skin prickled uncomfortably, his breathing becoming erratic. He couldn't live like this. Frantically, he dug the pouch out from under his pillow. He just needed it one more time. Tomorrow – tomorrow he would be stronger.

With a sigh of relief, he swallowed the potion – the milky white liquid warmed his throat, spreading throughout his body. Since he was developing a resistance it was taking longer and longer for the potion to take effect. Instead, he spent a considerable amount of time in a sort of blissful in-between – not quite awake but not quite asleep. Lazily, he returned the pouch to its hiding spot, enjoying the euphoric feeling of the sheets sliding across his skin as he moved. He let his eyes drift shut, the gentle sounds of his own breathing sounding like ocean waves crashing on the beach. Everything felt right with the world. With a sigh that seemed to last an eternity, he slowly faded away.

His return to the land of the living came way too soon; daylight was still hours away. Groggily, he dug out the last vial and swallowed it down without a second thought. He just needed a little more sleep before he faced the day. Like sliding into a relaxing bath, his senses were engulfed in a feeling of tranquility. He never wanted to leave this warm embrace. Was this what being held in your mother's arms felt like? He wasn't sure – it just felt nice. His thoughts floated gently away.

<<<<<   >>>>>

He heard a voice from far away. "Harry, wake up. You're going to be late."

He was vaguely aware that someone had their hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Wakey, wakey," the voice taunted, shaking him again. He wanted it to go away.

"Come on," the voice whined. He couldn't figure out why it was being so persistent.

The warmth that had been surrounding him instantly disappeared; he shivered against the invading chill with a loud groan, curling himself into a ball.

The voice was undeterred – he felt a tickle across the back of his neck that he tried to squirm away from. The more alert he became, the more the pounding in his head increased in intensity. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his eyes like lead, his stomach like it had been used for origami. He brought a hand to his face to cover his eyes against the invading sunlight.

"Seriously," Ron exclaimed in exasperation. "What is wrong with you this morning?"

His thoughts were becoming more coherent as he was pulled out of the abyss of sleep.

"Just tired," he replied, yawning. "Not done sleeping yet."

"If you don't get up right now," Ron chided, "you'll miss breakfast."

"Uhnnn," Harry groaned. "Don't need breakfast – just sleep."

Ron grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him into a sitting position against the headboard, in order to give him a stern look.

"Sorry mate, you are not skipping breakfast again," he warned, handing Harry his glasses and clothes. "Either dress yourself or I'll dress you myself."

Harry begrudgingly accepted his fate and made his way to the bathroom to change and get ready for the day.

"I just wanted five more minutes," he lamented to no one in particular.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Hermione smiled as her boyfriend continued to rant about their mutual friend, his head resting in her lap.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's finally sleeping again. It's just that – I wish he wasn't so impossible to deal with in the morning. Is it too much to ask that he both go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning?"

"Oh, and eat three whole meals?" Ron added as an afterthought. "You know, normal people shit."

Ron rubbed his hand across his face with a sigh.

"Could just be that he's catching up on all the sleep he lost. He'll get back to normal eventually," she assured him, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. "We just need to be there for him."

Ron closed his eyes with a nod, relaxing under her ministrations, his breathing evening out as he drifted off. She caressed his face lovingly and placed a small kiss on his forehead. Harry wasn't the only one who needed to catch up on his sleep.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Night had come much too quickly for Harry's liking – he was all out of vials. An anxiousness had settled in the pit of his stomach. It was no use trying to avoid it – sleep had to come eventually. He was dead on his feet after Occlumency with Professor Snape.

With a defeated sigh, he changed into his pajamas and marched to his bed like a man being led before a firing squad. He pulled the covers up and shut his eyes tightly.

"Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts," he repeated like a mantra.

Dean and Seamus exchanged worried glances. Ron and Neville were nowhere to be seen.

"Tucking in early?" Seamus inquired.

Harry glanced at the boy with a resigned expression. "Yeah, might as well get it over with."

Seamus' brow drew together in confusion as he turned to Dean for answers – Dean gave him a mystified shrug in response.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Ron's hot breath sent shivers down her spine. His hand was tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, his body pressing her roughly against the wall. Hermione's hands were under his shirt; she dragged her nails across his back, pulling him closer.

"Mione," he moaned against her. "Please don't start something we can't finish."

She smiled at him coyly, face flushed. "Who says we can't finish?"

His expression turned feral – hostile even. "You know why," he growled, pulling away.

She studied him with a smirk, intentionally letting the silence drag on.

"It's fine," she finally replied, holding up a vial of lavender liquid. "I made more."

Over Christmas break, Mrs. Weasley had covertly handed the girl instructions on making a potion that prevented unwanted pregnancies. "I remember what it was like to be 16," she had explained.

Ron gave her a hungry look that made her whole body sing in anticipation. She threw back the chalky substance before he could launch his attack. Almost immediately he had hiked up her skirts and discovered that there were no panties to remove. He gave her a dazzling smile, his hands caressing her thigh thoughtfully, inching closer and closer until she thought that she was going to explode.

"Please," she begged as his fingers teased at her opening, her body aching with need.

She growled in frustration when he pulled his hands away.

"That wasn't very nice," he whispered in her ear. "Getting me all hot and bothered and leaving me to think there was no hope."

She plunged her hand down the front of his pants, ghosting her fingers over his hardened length. He groaned against her, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as she brushed her fingers over the head, gently working the bead of moisture at the tip across the slit. She removed her hands from his pants and grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck, pulling his face close to hers.

"Not nice," she whispered back. "Two can play that game."

He leaned into her, face flushed, breathing heavy.

"I'm not in the mood for games," he replied in a husky voice.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she saw him unbuckling his belt and loosening his pants, exposing himself to her. For half a second, she worried about being seen, but that thought evaporated the second he lifted her skirts and was teasing at her entrance. She just needed him so bad right now and she didn't care who saw it. She closed her eyes and threw her head back with a moan as he plunged into her. With each movement inside her, she felt a pulsing warmth building up between her legs.

She dug her nails into his back – he thrust harder in response. His hand slipped under her shirt, ghosting gently over her stomach, his thumb worrying her nipples. Her body was tingling with pleasure.

That warm feeling was spreading across her body as he nibbled a path down her neck. Her chest felt tight. She was getting close – perched on the edge of no return. He gasped her name as his thrusting quickened. It was too much. She came crashing down the other side, her body rippling with her release.

Ron cried out in ecstasy as her walls spasmed around him. He exploded inside her with a few shuddering thrusts. She could feel his wetness trickling down her thighs.

He leaned heavily against her, breathing hard as the last few tremors left his body. She felt amazing. She didn't ever want this feeling to end. She wanted to stay like that forever.

"Sorry, I'm crushing you," he apologized, starting to pull away.

With a shake of her head, she pulled him back, holding him against her. "Please stay like that."

They breathed against each other until the afterglow had faded.

"We should go back," Ron said, yawning as he pulled his pants back up and buckled them.

Hermione begrudgingly admitted that he was right. She straightened her skirt and brushed her hair down with shaking hands, acutely aware of the wet feeling between her thighs.

"We need to stop at a bathroom on the way back," she announced, taking his hand and leading him down the steps.

He nodded dumbly, half-asleep already.

After freshening up in the bathroom, they entered the Common Room holding hands. It was late, and the room was empty. Hermione and Ron turned to one another for one last goodbye kiss. Inches away from one another, they froze at the sound of an anguished scream – it was Harry.


	25. Swingers Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a word of warning, the beginning of this get a little gory.

"You did it again, boy," Sirius taunted, stepping aside to reveal Hermione. She staggered towards him with hurt, mistrustful eyes, a ragged hole in her chest blossoming like a rose, blood trickling from the corner of her lips.

"No," he whispered, taking a surprised step back. "This is only a dream."

Ron knocked him off his feet as he ran by, catching Hermione in his arms as she crumpled to the ground. He rocked back and forth, clutching the girl tightly to his chest, howling in despair, blood soaking into his clothing. Harry watched in horror, his face ashen. Hermione's hand fell limply to her side. He moved to take it but froze as Ron turned hateful eyes on him.

"This is all your fault," he snarled.

Harry's heart was in his throat, he swallowed against it, eyes darting away.

Ron gasped in surprise, attracting Harry's attention as the boy clutched at his chest, blood pouring through his fingers.

"Why?" he questioned with a grimace of pain. "Why did you do this to us?"

Harry let out an anguished scream, tears streaming down his face as he scrambled away. He needed to put distance between himself and that grisly scene. Hallway after dark hallway passed by in a blur, lungs burning in his chest as he ran aimlessly.

"It's just a dream," he reassured himself, forcing his mind to stay focused, struggling not to lose himself. "None of this is real."

"Harry," a familiar voice called out to him, echoing through the labyrinth – it was Hermione. He pulled up short almost losing his balance when he caught sight of the girl in front of him.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged, eyes wide with fear. Without warning, she fell to the ground with an agonized scream, her body convulsing violently as deep lacerations ripped her body to shreds right before his very eyes. A lake of blood pooled beneath her as she stilled, glassy eyes locked accusingly on his own.

Completely lost to reality, Harry turned to run, his feet slipping on the blood-slicked surface of the ground. He came crashing down beside her, his face close to hers. "I'm sorry," he cried, scrambling haphazardly away, his limbs unable to gain purchase on the bloody cobblestone, tears obscuring his vision. "I don't want this to happen."

"But it will," Sirius promised, appearing from the mist to tower over him. "Let me end it for you."

"WAKE UP," a far-away voice shouted, the scene in front of him instantly dissolving.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Without a second thought, Ron tore off towards the sound of Harry's screaming, Hermione right on his heels. Rules be damned – her friend needed her. Harry was tossing fitfully in his bed, tears streaming down his face.

"Harry," she called, hoping to bring him back. He was becoming increasingly agitated, breath ragged as he apologized through choking sobs.

Ron was at his side in an instant, shaking him roughly. "WAKE UP!" he shouted.

With a start, Harry scrambled against the headboard, a haunted expression on his face. His eyes met hers and widened in horror.

"No," he cried, shaking violently. "You're dead."

Her heart leapt into her throat. "Harry," she said, voice cracking as she moved closer, slowly reaching towards him as if he were a wounded animal. "I'm fine – see." He recoiled, eyeing her hand warily.

"It was just a bad dream," she reassured him.

Awareness began to dawn on him, chasing the shadows from his eyes. He yanked her hand roughly towards his face, the abrupt motion causing her to lose her balance and topple into his bed. Before she could remove herself, he had wrapped his arms around her, clutching her tightly against him, his body shuddering as he sobbed uncontrollably. She wrapped her free arm around him, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Just a bad dream." He quieted under her care with a few gasping hiccups, both of them finally shifting into a more comfortable position on the bed.

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances. Harry had fallen back asleep, his arms still tightly wrapped around Hermione. Unable to escape without disturbing the boy, she decided to stay. Ron shrugged uncertainly, pulling up a chair to sit next to the bed, taking both their hands in his. It wasn't long before his head was resting on the bed beside Harry's sleeping form. Hermione let a bittersweet smile appear on her lips as she gazed at the scene.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry was dreaming again. It was a pleasant sort of dream – completely mundane. He was nibbling on a piece of toast at the kitchen table discussing school while his mother made his lunch. His father strode into the room yawning. He crossed the kitchen to give his wife a kiss before sitting down next to Harry at the table and tousling his hair affectionately.

They ate breakfast in companionable silence before splitting up to get ready.

"Have a good day at school," his mother called as she was fixing her husband's tie. His father rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture and shrugged. Harry smiled at him, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder before running out the door.

Ron was waiting for him at the bus stop, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Hermione just texted. She promised to help me with my algebra homework tonight, but I think I'd rather be studying anatomy with her," he said with wink. Harry shook his head; Ron was absolutely incorrigible.

The bus pulled up, hydraulics screeching as it came to a stop. They joined Draco in the back row. He'd totaled his new car and as punishment he was forced to ride the bus with all the commoners. It would have been funny if not for the fact that he had been driving them to school as well.

When they finally arrived, they found Hermione tapping her foot impatiently just inside the cafeteria door.

"Don't forget we have that awful group project in History," she reminded Harry, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of working with less competent individuals. "We'll be meeting in the library after school."

She turned to Ron with a brilliant smile, latching her arm in his as she dragged him to Algebra class. Harry chuckled as he watched their retreating form, taking Draco's hand in his as they made their way to Chemistry.

There was no Hogwarts, no prophecies, no Voldemort – just a normal, boring, amazingly perfect life. Ron was on the Rugby Team, Hermione did Speech and Debate, Draco was in Theater, and Harry – he was completely unremarkable in every way.

He awoke with tears in his eyes. Hermione shifted in his arms, looking up at him with a worried expression.

"Another dream?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "But a good one this time."

She studied him carefully, frowning at the tears on his face. "Then why are you crying?"

He shut his eyes, forcing back a bitter sob. "Because I know it will never come true," he replied, a hitch in his voice. "We don't get to do normal."

She looked like she had taken a punch to the gut, eyes filling up with tears as she buried her face in his chest. "Oh Harry," she cried. "I'm so sorry."

Ron stirred, lifting his head to watch his friends, his heart aching.

The moment was ruined when Seamus caught sight of them. "Didn't realize you guys were swingers," he remarked, too far away to see their expressions. They chuckled weakly at the joke, Hermione sniffling and wiping the tears off her face with her sleeve.

"Breakfast?" Ron suggested, helping Hermione to her feet.

Harry and Hermione exchanged amused glances – Ron's appetite was legendary.


	26. Et Tu?

Draco staggered forward, hands clutching his belly to keep his entrails from spilling out through a jagged wound across his gut. "Help me," he pleaded, collapsing into Harry's arms, blood slowly warming his chest as he held him.

"Please," he begged, clutching at Harry's robes, a desperate look in his eyes. "I don't want to die like this."

Harry's trembling legs gave out on him and he fell to his knees, Draco still in his arms.

"It's going to be okay," Harry whispered as he lovingly brushed blond hair out of the boy's eyes, leaving an angry streak of crimson across his pale face.

"I'm not ready to die," Draco pleaded weakly, breathing shallow and labored. "Please don't let me die."

Harry choked back the sob that was struggling to escape, trying to keep a brave face. "I won't," he promised, picking up the boy's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. Draco let out a relieved sigh, his body relaxing, his chest settling into stillness. Harry clutched at Draco's lifeless body, tears streaming down his face as he screamed.

A hand on his shoulder forced him to glance up through blurry tears. Sirius was grinning madly down at him.

"Oh no," the man exclaimed in mock surprise. "Have you gone and got another one of your friends killed?"

Harry turned away, burying his face in Draco's hair, gasping as he sobbed. His heart felt like it was being squeezed, he couldn't breathe against the pain of it.

"You know how to stop this," Sirius taunted, his words tickling Harry's ear. He took a shuddering breath and nodded, never looking up. Bony fingers crept around his neck from behind. He didn't fight them.

He awoke with a gasp, tears refusing to stop.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"Meet me in the abandoned classroom at the end of the hall," Harry whispered in Draco's ear before walking out of the door at the end of class.

Draco followed a moment later, wondering why he had chosen that particular classroom. It was the one he had attacked Harry in several months ago. His stomach twisted itself up at the thought of going back there.

When he entered, Harry appeared anxious, eyes darting about nervously as Draco closed the door behind him. "I need you to make more," he requested in a rush without looking at him.

Draco's eyes widened in shock. "That should have lasted you a whole month," he exclaimed loudly.

Harry shifted nervously, studying his feet with a guilty expression. "I know," he admitted with a shudder. "The dreams... they're getting worse. I can't do this anymore. I just need some more... just enough until I can get over this... this thing I have going on with me."

He looked up at Draco, shadows dancing across his pleading eyes. Draco's breath caught in his throat at the sight of his desperate expression. He studied the boy in silence, weighing his options.

"No," he firmly replied after he had made up his mind. "I'm not going to help you kill yourself."

Harry's face morphed into an angry scowl. "Why the hell do you care? We're not friends, remember?"

Draco looked away, his stomach sinking at having his thoughtless words thrown back in his face. "I just..." Draco started, voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard and continued. "I just don't want to see you die, okay?"

He squirmed in discomfort as Harry continued to glare daggers at him.

"I'm dead anyway, so what does it matter?" he spat bitterly.

"That's not true," Draco exclaimed. "You'll probably defeat the Dark Lord and leave this whole thing behind you."

Harry snorted derisively, his eyes bright with the threat of tears. "Oh, I'll defeat him all right. There's no question there."

Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion at what was left unsaid, at the bitterness that was pouring off the boy. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Harry clamped up, expression growing cold. "Just forget I said anything," he snarled before heading towards the classroom door. "I'll just ask Hermione instead."

Draco studied his back as he left, reeling from the shock of their exchange and all the unanswered questions still plaguing his thoughts. He needed to talk to Granger, even if that meant admitting to his crime. There was more going on here than Harry was letting on. For the briefest second, he paused to wonder why he should even care.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Hermione and Ron were lounging on a bench, enjoying the surprisingly pleasant weather. The air was a tad chilly, but the sun overhead kept them bathed in warmth. Hermione shivered as a cloud passed over the sun, the temperature dropping suddenly.

Malfoy stalked towards them with a determined expression, his eyes fixed on her boyfriend. "I need to borrow Granger," he snarled.

Ron glared back in a threatening manner, his teeth grinding and body tense. "Not going to happen, mate," he shot back.

"It's about your friend," Malfoy elaborated with a disdainful toss of his head. "And I'd rather not discuss it with you. I don't fancy getting punched in the face again."

Hermione placed her hand gently on Ron's arm as he bristled at Malfoy's tone. "It's fine," she assured him, standing to follow the blond, curious at what could have brought him out here.

"Hermione, don't," Ron pleaded, but she continued walking.

They stopped under a nearby tree that was within Ron's line of sight. Maybe if he could see them, then he wouldn't get too mad. After a quick glance in his direction, she looked up at Malfoy with a questioning expression on her face, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest.

"I have something I need to tell you," he grumbled, eyes downcast. She waited patiently for him to continue, heart still atwitter.

"I've been making Harry the Dreamless Sleep Potion off and on since  Winter Break," he admitted, biting his lip nervously.

She gasped in surprise. That was a restricted potion – difficult to make and extremely dangerous. He shouldn't have...

"I know," he spat, cutting her off before she had a chance to say anything.

"That was completely irresponsible," she scolded, finally finding her voice when the initial shock wore off.

"I know," he repeated, voice rising in agitation. "I was hoping that if he just got some sleep, it would clear his head and help him sort things out. It didn't. He started getting reckless with it, so I cut him off... again. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case he asked you to make it for him or worse, tried to make it himself. You've got to find another way of dealing with his nightmares. I'm no good with that kind of stuff."

She shook her head in disbelief at the anxious expression on Malfoy's face.

"You really do care about him," she remarked – it wasn't a question. He growled at the accusation but didn't deny it.

"We'll think of something," she promised reassuringly, her hand twitching with the need to comfort him. He would not like that and neither would Ron whose eyes had never once left the pair as they conversed.

When it looked like Draco had nothing more to say, she turned to go back to her boyfriend worried at the agitated look he wore. Draco grabbed hold of her sleeve, causing her to stop and turn around in surprise.

"I also wanted to know something," Malfoy asked, earnest eyes on her. "Why does Harry keep implying he's going to die?"

Her stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably. If Harry hadn't told him, she didn't feel it was her place to say anything, but those wide, fearful eyes were making it very hard for her to hold her tongue.

"Please," he begged. "You know something, don't you? Tell me what it is."

She nodded, heart hammering in her chest.

"There was a prophecy," she replied evasively. If he wanted to know more, Harry would have to be the one to tell him. She broke away from him and returned to her scowling boyfriend.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco was skulking about the halls on the third floor in frustration, lost in thought over the day's events. If there was a prophecy that said Harry was going to die, why hadn't he told him? Oblivious to his surroundings, Draco failed to notice two boys approaching him. The larger boy grabbed him from behind, arms wrapping under his to hold him still.

"Look what we have here," he whispered in Draco's ear, causing him to startle in surprise.

"Not so high and mighty now?" the smaller boy questioned, moving into his line of sight. Draco barely recognized him – definitely a Slytherin, but probably from one of the less prominent families, so not worth his time.

"I'm sorry," Draco replied with a yawn as he forced himself to relax, his heart still thundering in his chest as he bluffed. "What was your name again? I don't think I ever bothered learning it."

The smaller boy clenched his fists at his sides, eyes flashing dangerously. The larger boy tightened his grip until it was painful, his body shaking with fury. Draco knew he was going to regret the insult, but he was in a reckless mood. He forced his expression to remain neutral.

"It doesn't matter who I am," the boy spat with an angry flush. "What matters is what we're going to call you? You're not a Malfoy anymore, so..."

The boy grinned maliciously and signaled his friend to hold Draco still. He pulled out his wand and lifted Draco's shirt. Where wand met skin, Draco felt a searing pain, the words ' _Potter's Pet_ ' being etched into his flesh. He grunted against the pain, jaw clenched tight, tears pricking his eyes.

"That way you won't forget it," the boy informed with a wicked grin.

"Let me have a go," the larger boy whined, shoving Draco into the smaller boy's arms where he was spun about, almost falling.

From the end of the hallway, they heard Professor Snape's voice. "What do you think you are doing here?"

Both boys exchanged worried glances before they took off running, dropping Draco to the floor. From his vantage point, he saw mis-matched shoes with brightly colored socks approaching. A dreamy voice asked, "Are you okay?"

Confused, he glanced further down the hall, looking for Professor Snape. The blond girl began to giggle at him. "Sorry for the trick," she explained, holding out a hand to help him up. "I changed my voice to scare them off."

Draco ignored her offer of assistance and stood, wincing momentarily at the pain in his chest.

"The name's Luna - Luna Lovegood," she informed in an airy voice.

"I'm Dra-"

"Oh, I already know who you are," she said, cutting him off with a leisurely smile.

She rifled through her bag, pulling out a jar that looked suspiciously like the one that Professor Snape had given him. "Let me help you with that," she offered, indicating the wounds that were bleeding through his shirt.

Draco took a step back, shaking his head as she approached. "I'm fine."

"It will hurt less if someone else does it," she coaxed, opening the jar as if she didn't intend to give him a choice. He vaguely recognized her as being a part of the Harry Potter Fan Club.

"Fine," he grumbled, lifting his shirt. He didn't have the energy to get into a pointless argument right now.

Her fingers were cool as she smeared the salve onto his chest. He shivered at the sensation.

"You know," she remarked, her expression dreamy once more as she put the lid back on the salve. "You have more friends than you realize. There's a lot of people that are really thankful you saved Harry's life."

She didn't wait for him to respond as she stood and wandered off, leaving Draco dumbfounded. Why were Harry's friends so fucking weird?


	27. Quidditch Champion

Harry found himself lying on a cold bench in the courtyard, eyes closed as fat snowflakes floated gently down upon him. He was rather fond of this time of the year - everything felt so clean and endless. He allowed himself to grow comfortably numb for a while, mind empty, savoring the crisp smell of winter.

The sound of snow crunching underfoot caught his attention – whoever it was they were getting closer. Darkness passed over his face, noticeable even with his eyes closed. He opened them, eyes still adjusting as he struggled to identify the shadowed face looming over his.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" a familiar voice sneered.

Harry let out a weary sigh, closing his eyes once again. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Just checking that you were still alive," Draco grumbled, voice tinged with concern. "You've been sitting out here for quite a while."

Harry sat up to get a better look at Draco. A prominent dark purple bruise around his left eye looked rather striking against his pale skin. He held himself stiffly, wincing with every slight movement. It had been easier when they hated each other. Now, Harry felt conflicted. 

Harry shifted over to make room for the boy, patting the snow-free section of the bench in invitation. Draco took up his offer, sitting next to him in silence, snowflakes catching on his long lashes.

"Why didn't you tell me about the prophecy?" Draco asked, turning to look at him, a wounded expression on his face.

Harry stiffened, his first reaction being to remind Draco that they were not friends, but the words froze in his throat the minute his eyes met Draco's.

"Oh," he mumbled weakly instead, dropping his gaze to his gloved hands.

Draco growled in frustration beside him, grabbing Harry's arm roughly to force him to look at him.

"Well? Answer the question," he demanded heatedly.

Harry turned away in an embarrassment. "I didn't want you to start treating me differently," he mumbled, unable to look in Draco's direction.

Draco grabbed him by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"That's stupid," he growled, silver-grey eyes boring into him. "I had a right to know."

"Why?" Harry challenged, staring the boy down defiantly in response to Draco's sudden possessiveness.

Draco's hand dropped away with a sharp intake of breath, a look of betrayal passing briefly across his features. Harry instantly regretted what he'd said, but there was no fixing it. Draco stood, taking a few steps away from him.

"I just – I really thought," he choked on his words, shoulders gently shaking. "I honestly thought that maybe we might have been friends."

Harry studied the boy's back, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. "So did I," he murmured just loud enough to be heard.

Draco started to chuckle weakly, turning to face Harry with misty eyes.

"You really are hopeless," he exclaimed, shoving Harry off the bench and into the snow before strolling away. "Don't forget to eat lunch," he called back before disappearing inside.

Harry picked himself up off the ground with a shake of his head. Draco seemed as moody and unpredictable as ever. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco jumped in alarm as something cold soaked down the back of his robes, spinning around to catch sight of the perpetrator.

"My bad," a pig-faced third-year boy apologized with a malicious grin.

Draco's lip curled in disgust as he eyed the boy.

"It's fine," Draco sneered, with a shake of his head. "I know how hard it must be for you to walk and hold things at the same time. Although it does make me wonder why they even allow the mentally deficient to have wands in the first place – it can't be safe."

The boy flushed red in anger, fists shaking at his sides as he glanced about for witnesses. Professor Snape studied them both closely from across the room.

"You're going to regret that," he snarled before storming back to his snickering friends.

Draco didn't doubt that. He really needed to learn how to control his tongue, but the words just came, spilling out without a second thought. He couldn't help himself. Harry had jokingly referred to it as his inner-asshole.

When lunch was drawing to a close, Mr. Piggy strolled over, leaning in much too close to Draco. "Tonight," he threatened. Draco shivered at the feel of the boy's breath on his neck.

"What, you planning on finally finding your dick under all that flab?" Draco shot back, wincing internally at such a reckless statement. His stupid mouth was going to be the death of him.

Draco ducked as a fist flew towards him. With a grin, he realized he was getting better at this. All this Quidditch practice was finally paying off.

Professor Snape interceded before the boy had a chance to try again, his robes fluttering behind him as he approached, glaring at the boy who had attempted to hurt his godson.

"You will be joining me for detention later today," he snarled, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Yes, Professor," the boy replied, shooting Draco a murderous glare before lumbering off.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape acknowledged with an exasperated sigh. "Can you please stop antagonizing people?"

Draco smiled ruefully at his godfather, "But I'm getting so good at Quidditch this way."

The man shook his head in resignation before departing without another word.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Hermione was nose-deep in a book, a small pile of additional books relating to dreams resting next to her. Draco cleared his throat to attract her attention.

"Can I help you?" she asked sharply, studying him with a questioning look, her eyes softening when she noticed his black eye.

"Possibly," he replied evasively, still working up the courage to ask her for a favor when everything in him was screaming that he shouldn't be stooping so low as to ask a mudblood for help. Unfortunately, she was the best person to ask and her soft-hearted nature made her easy to manipulate.

Her eyebrow quirked up as she waited for him to get to the point.

"I was wondering if you knew of a way that I could ward my room against intrusion. I sort of pissed off some people today and I don't think the wards I've been using will be enough," he admitted, trying to look extra pathetic.

Unlike Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw dorms had private rooms. It was assumed that the difference was due to house goals – comradery versus individual ambition. If not for that, it would have been impossible for Draco to sleep at night. He still had to get to his room, but once there, he could throw up some wards and relax until he needed to leave again.

Something about the boy's threat at lunch had worried Draco. The way he had said 'tonight' as if he had already figured something out – it made Draco wonder if they had found a way passed his warding.

She pinched her lips between her fingers, lost in thought. Draco waited nervously for her decision, still a bit conflicted about getting help from her.

"Just give me second," she replied at last, disappearing into the bookshelves and returning with a small stack of books.

"I don't know what you're currently using," she stated, dropping the books into his arms with a satisfied nod. "But these should point you in the right direction. Just skip to the sections on warding, you don't have to read the whole thing."

"Thanks," he replied with a resigned expression, moving to a seat a few tables away. He'd been hoping she would just give him the answers so he could go on about his day. The less time he spent in her company, the happier he would be.

The books were informative, if a little dry. He jotted down a few wards that he had never heard of and returned the books with an accomplished smile. That was one problem solved. Maybe Hermione could point him in the right direction for his next problem. He'd already sunk this low, not like it could get any worse.

He drifted back to her side, clearing his throat once again. She glanced up at him in irritation.

"Need help understanding something," she questioned disdainfully. He wanted to stomp off in anger at the implication, but he swallowed his pride.

"No," he explained, his voice tight. "The books you recommended were perfect. I just need to pick your brain about another problem."

She sighed and gestured for him to continue.

"I need some advice on how to get to my room undetected. The warding won't do me any good if I get jumped on the way there."

Her face scrunched up in thought as if a thousand different scenarios were playing out in her head.

"Short of using an invisibility cloak, I just don't know," she replied with a huff. "Have you tried sneaking in through the window?"

Draco's eyes widened in shock, an excited smile playing out across his face.

"That's brilliant," he exclaimed, giving the girl an appraising look. "I can see why Harry keeps you around."

She smiled at him, her cheeks growing rosy at the compliment. Out of the blue, her eyes flitted to something behind him, her face instantly draining of color.

"Malfoy," Weasley growled, clearly agitated at finding the boy talking to his girlfriend again.

Without acknowledging Weasley's existence, Draco smirked at Hermione.

"But not that one," he remarked, jerking his thumb back to indicate the furious red-head who was breathing rather heavily behind him. "I don't understand what the two of you see in him."

He could feel the wind at the back of his head, dodging Weasley's punch just in time, his heart hammering in his chest at the shock of adrenaline.

"Cheap shot," Draco scoffed, dancing away from the boy with his hands held high.

"Thanks again for the help, Hermione," he added, shooting her a brilliant smile as he backed out of the library.

He could get used to the idea of agitating the weasel by flirting with his girlfriend – even if she was a mudblood.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"Where were you last night?" Mr. Piggy growled in Draco's ear at breakfast, dark shadows under his eyes indicating that the boy had been up late.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" he questioned in feigned ignorance. "I was sleeping in my bed the whole time."

"Liar," he snarled. "We never saw you go up."

Draco gave an indifferent shrug, nibbling delicately on a piece of toast as he ignored him.

With Professor Snape's help, they had made modifications to his window to allow him entry. All he had to do was borrow his broom from the hiding place they set up and he could be resting comfortably in his bed in no time. As a bonus, Draco was now able to access his broom at any time without arousing suspicions.

"You can't avoid us forever," the boy threatened menacingly. "I suggest you watch your back."

"But that is quite impossible," Draco sputtered in surprise, dramatically attempting to look over his shoulder at his back. "It's behind me – you see."

Only Draco appeared to be amused at his little joke. The other boy glanced in Professor Snape's direction before storming off.

"I think I'm going to call you, Stormin' Norman," Draco mused aloud.

Despite a few mishaps, things were starting to get fun around here. He was blocking or ducking more punches than he was taking, he had figured out a way to avoid the Common Room entirely, and so long as he wasn't caught off guard, he could usually get away from people who tried to jump him in the hallways. If only he could work on his reckless need to run his mouth at the worst possible moment, then he'd be set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's been in a good mood ever since Harry admitted that he was thinking they were becoming friends. I think I like happy, snarky Draco. What is your favorite? Angry Draco, Moody Draco, Haughty Draco, Snobbish Draco, Snarky Draco, or some other Draco.


	28. Kicking Anthills

Ron studied Harry for a while as he stood at the foot of his bed, an expression of dread on his face. He had not moved for quite some time and Ron feared he might stand there the whole night, gazing at his bed as if he expected it to grow fangs and attack him.

"Come on then, mate," Ron beckoned, shifting over to make room for his friend.

Harry let out a relieved sigh, shuffling over, his face flushed with embarrassment as he crawled in next to him.

The bed wasn't really big enough for the both of them. Ron was forced to lie on his side, his back to Harry's back. It was awkward and weird, but he and Hermione had discovered that Harry slept better when he had company. That wasn't to say that he was nightmare free, but his connection to something real helped him to stay grounded, helped him not wake up confusing dreams for reality – usually. It was the best they could do for the moment.

Ron preemptively tossed the comforter to the floor, leaving them with only a sheet. Both boys slept like furnaces and he didn't relish the idea of waking in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and dying from the heat.

"Night, Harry," Ron called, pulling the sheet up to his chin.

"Night," he replied weakly, probably still embarrassed about the whole situation.

After a while, he felt the tension drain out of the boy lying next to him, his breathing evening out into a steady cadence.

"Please don't attack me tonight," Ron whispered with a soft smile on his face, closing his eyes to join his friend in sleep.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Ron awoke to the sound of giggling at his bedside. He cracked one eye open to glare at the smirking faces of Seamus and Dean.

"What's Hermione going to say when she finds out?" Seamus inquired melodramatically, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Don't know," Ron grumbled, slipping carefully out of the bed so as not to wake his best friend. "It was her idea."

"Is that how it is?" Seamus replied, eyebrows raised in mock-surprise. "You can never tell by lookin' at em', can you?"

"Oh, come off it," Ron growled in irritation, ready for the teasing to be done. "You know he sleeps better like this."

Seamus snorted and sauntered off, Dean right behind him as they left the room. Ron could only shake his head at their antics.

It was Saturday, so there was no need to wake Harry up just yet. Ron could grab some breakfast and bring it up for him to eat later. As he watched, Harry shifted, curling in on himself against the cold. He grabbed the comforter off the floor and gently placed it over him.

"You're a really good friend," Neville remarked in a quiet voice, having watched the whole thing. "Harry's lucky to have you."

"He'd do the same for me," Ron responded, flushing slightly at the sudden compliment.

Neville nodded, thoughtfully watching Harry sleep for a while before padding across the room and out the door.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Draco noticed that Harry wasn't at breakfast. The Weasel looked decidedly disheveled and that worried him a bit. Maybe they'd had another rough night. Harry's friends didn't seem to be making any headway in helping him with his nightmares. Draco growled in frustration at their incompetence.

"Missing your boyfriend?" Pansy teased, so close he could smell her flowery shampoo.

White-hot anger settled in the pit of his stomach at her presence. Every time he saw her, it took everything he had not to launch himself at her throat. That feeling had not seemed to lessen even after several months had passed. She had very wisely been avoiding him – until today.

He spun around with a murderous look, eyes like daggers meeting her smug expression.

"At least I can get a boyfriend," he snarled, surprising himself as well as several others at the table. He'd meant to say girlfriend or lover or anything else, but his mouth had a mind of its own.

Her face purpled with fury as she slapped him, the sound reverberating across the Great Hall. Across the way, Professor Snape stood, catching Draco's attention. He shook his head in warning, hand cupping his face, hoping that the man understood that he wanted to handle this on his own.

With an evil smirk, he turned once more to face the traitor.

"What's the matter Pansy? Scared you'll die a lonely spinster," he sneered. It felt good to be saying these things to her, wounding her with his words, going right for her weaknesses like a well-aimed knife. He suddenly had a greater appreciation for his grandmother and her acid-tongue. Maybe they were more alike than either had ever realized.

Pansy was apoplectic with rage, eyes flashing dangerously. He hesitated for a moment then, wondering what more she could possibly do to him. She had already ruined him, but the promise of retribution in her eyes was enough to give him pause, enough even to quiet his willful tongue for a moment.

She composed herself with a disdainful sniff, her face settling into a haughty expression. "My prospects seem much better than yours at the moment," she replied, carefully concealed anger still smoldering behind her cold blue eyes. "Who would want to settle down with a nobody like you?"

Draco smiled, feeling brave once again despite the rampaging beat of his heart.

"Let's not lie to ourselves," Draco replied with an equally haughty expression on his face. "We all know you've wanted in my pants since day one. Did you invent that lie about Potter and me to help you feel better about yourself?"

The haughty expression on her face suddenly evaporated as several people nearby struggled not to snicker.

"Nice try," she replied, voice so cold with unspoken threat that it froze the very blood in his veins. "Should I let Potter know you're breaking up with him then?"

There was more to her words, some extra meaning that he struggled to decipher. Whatever it was, he knew it would not end well for Harry. This was the last thing he had intended to happen.

"You leave Harry out of it," he threatened, pulling close to whisper in her ear. "You won't like the consequences if you hurt him."

"It's Harry now, is it?" she chirped, face alight with triumph.

"I'm warning you," he roared, panic settling in at the thought of what she might be planning.

"What?" she replied, a smug expression on her face. "You going to tell your father? Oh, wait. You haven't got one of those anymore."

Draco's breath caught in his throat, his snarky comebacks finally failing him in his moment of need.

She turned and sauntered off, a satisfied expression on her face. He slumped to the bench in defeat. Just when he and Harry were starting to get along again, he had to go and ruin it. He had no doubt that Pansy intended to use Harry to hurt him. He had to warn him before things got out of hand.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Something hit the back of Harry's head, startling him into consciousness as he peeled his face off his textbook. At some point he had dozed off during the lesson and much to his surprise it seemed that Professor Snape had ignored it. A crumpled-up bit of parchment rolled under his chair. He turned to see where it had come from as it was mostly Slytherins in this class. Draco pointed at the floor, miming at him to open it. It was an exceedingly brave move for the boy – a first really – passing notes during class with all these witnesses.

Harry hesitantly picked up the note, opening it up cautiously in case it was a trap.

_Meet me in the abandoned classroom. You know the one. – DM_

At the bottom was a crude little doodle that appeared to be of Harry dozing at his desk, his head atop an opened textbook. Harry's brow drew together in confusion. Draco only drew flowers and he certainly didn't draw in public where anyone could see him.

He turned around again, the question plainly written on his face. Draco mouthed the word, 'Later' before gazing intently at Professor Snape.

Minutes felt like hours as he squirmed in anticipation of his meet-up with Draco. They hadn't really said more than a couple of things to one another, but it was beginning to feel more like Winter Break between them.

Snape's unbearable drawl as he announced the homework assignment went on forever. The second he was done, Harry darted for the door, heading straight for the classroom where he waited for Draco.

"Thought you only drew flowers," he questioned, emerald eyes twinkling in excitement as the boy entered.

"What?" Draco started in surprise, shaking his head suddenly before changing the subject. "Never mind, that not why I asked you here. I came to warn you that you were in danger."

Harry snorted in amusement, much louder than he had intended. "Danger? Really Draco? What's next? You going to tell me my hair is black and my eyes are green? I've been in danger all my life."

"Shut up," Draco growled in frustration, his gaze very serious. "I'm talking about Pansy now. She has it out to get you and..." he trailed off mumbling the rest, "...it's sort of all my fault."

"What did you do this time?" Harry sighed, eyeing the boy as he shifted anxiously.

His face flushed in embarrassment as he tried to explain himself. "I sort of said some things that maybe I shouldn't have."

"Big surprise there," Harry interrupted after another snort.

"No, you don't understand," Draco pleaded, eyes panicked. "Somehow she's figured out that we are friends. She's planning something, something that will hurt me by hurting you."

"It's fine," Harry said, brushing off this seemingly minor threat. Pansy was quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things – not when compared to someone like Voldemort. From what he knew of her, she typically attacked by spreading rumors – more rumors were something he could live with.

Draco sighed, shoulders starting to slump in defeat. "No, it's not fine," he whispered darkly. "You just don't know her like I do. Promise me you'll keep an eye out."

"If it will make you feel better, I promise to watch out for Pansy and her nefarious schemes," Harry conceded, trying to make his voice sound sincere before changing the subject. "Now tell me, when did you start drawing people?"

Draco smiled much more readily now, blushing slightly as he always did when they talked about his artwork.

"I thought I'd expand my repertoire. Maybe pursue a career as an artist," he replied, his voice dripping in sarcasm despite the color in his cheeks.

The idea of Draco flitting about in an upscale art gallery discussing his inspiration in smug tones while standing in front of some gaudy, abstract, purple blob brought a smile to Harry's face. He guessed that Draco was only kidding about becoming an artist. When they had been discussing career options, Harry had suggested it in a half-joking manner. Draco had scrunched up his face in displeasure, violently shaking his head like the thought of it was more than he could tolerate.

"That would be a terrible idea," Harry announced with a smirk, repeating what Draco had said when they first discussed it

Draco placed his hand over his heart, feigning at being hurt with a dramatic gasp. "I thought you supported me. Some friend you turned out to be?"

Harry shrugged in mock indifference.

Over winter break, these moments of playful banter were what he lived for. They had been few and far between, but it felt like playing Quidditch when it happened – living in the moment, the rush of excitement as his mind raced to keep up, how everything just felt right. He'd never admit it to Draco though, Draco always got weird around him when he talked about his feelings.

A hand waved in front of his face, concerned silver-grey eyes studying him intently. With a start, he realized that Draco had been talking to him for quite some time. He tried to rewind the conversation in his head, but it was all a blur.

"Thought I lost you there for a moment," Draco sighed in relief.

"Sorry," Harry whispered feeling rather foolish. He wasn't usually the type to get lost in daydreams.

"Let's go back to my room and I'll show you what I've been working on," Draco suggested, still studying Harry in concern.

"But how?" Harry spluttered in surprise. "It's not like I can just go waltzing into the Slytherin Common Room with you."

Draco smiled slyly, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Your friend Granger came up with a way for me to sneak into my room without having to go through the Common Room."

Harry nodded dumbly, too shocked to form coherent thoughts. It wasn't long before he found himself riding on a broom behind Draco, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, wondering when he had fallen asleep and begun dreaming. Draco had asked Hermione for help?


	29. I Drew This

After he had recovered from the initial shock of finding out that the Slytherins got their own private rooms, he cast an appraising look around. Draco's room made him feel a bit claustrophobic – it had way too much furniture for such a small space. A couch and two fluffy chairs were set dangerously close to the front of the fireplace, a work desk and bookshelf took up the entire length of the far wall, and a large 4-poster bed filled out the remaining space leaving just a tiny path to navigate around on. While living in a dorm had its drawbacks, at least he had room to breathe.

"I thought the Slytherin dorms were under the lake?" Harry asked with a frown as the thought had occurred to him.

"The Common Room is, but the dorms...I'm not sure exactly how it works. Nothing about the layout of Hogwarts makes much sense. The location of the dorms in relation to the Common Room..." Draco trailed off with a shrug. "Nothing connects like it should. It's all sorts of wonky."

Harry peered thoughtfully out the window. It was slightly unnerving to think that if he left out of the door behind him and walked down the tower, he would be stepping into the Slytherin Common Room which was hidden underneath the lake he saw shimmering in the distance. His mind was boggled.

"But," Draco interrupted, forcing him to turn around. "That's not why I brought you here."

Draco squeezed passed the bed to get to his work desk where he picked up a familiar sketchpad and then crossed over to sit on the couch, beckoning with his eyes for Harry to join him.

"I checked out a book on the basics of drawing from the library," Draco explained excitedly, flipping through the pages of his sketchpad until he had arrived at his more recent work.

"See," he said, pointing to a page with various colored shapes. "I started out practicing light and shadow like the book said. It was rather easy given my previous experience."

He flipped a few more pages, stopping on a sketch of Harry napping on a bench in the courtyard.

"I've started drawing people now. I'm concentrating on getting the proportions right. There's a whole formula in there," he said, gesturing to the book still lying on his desk.

Harry fought down the urge to grin at the sight of Draco babbling on like an excitable child showing off his favorite toys. He was worried that Draco might think he was mocking him.

He flipped another page and there was Crabbe and Goyle scowling as they hunched over their cauldron in Potions. "This one was really hard – they're just so lumpy," he commented.

The next page was Ron, glaring across the dinner table in the Great Hall. "I had to draw this one in between feeling like I was going to retch every time he started talking with his mouth open. I guess with all those kids, his mum couldn't be bothered to teach them all proper manners."

Before he could argue with him, Draco had flipped the page again. It was another one of Harry, sitting in his favorite window ledge on the third floor, looking out at the grounds. It was a bit unnerving to realize that he must have been terribly oblivious to not have noticed Draco there, drawing him.

"So, what do you think?" Draco asked, eyes wide and eager, begging for praise.

"I'm surprised," Harry admitted. "I had only been joking, but you might make it as an artist after all."

Draco scoffed, fighting to suppress a satisfied grin. "Don't be stupid, Harry. Art is not a respectable profession. I'm only doing this for fun."

"Who cares about being respectable?" Harry questioned, a little upset with how quickly Draco had shot his idea down and more specifically upset with the mocking tone of voice he was using to do it in.

"I do," Draco shot back, his smile rapidly turning into an irritated frown. "Just because you have no sense of class or how the wizarding world works..."

"Are we really having this argument again?" Harry cut him off with an exasperated look.

"Sorry," he grumbled as if it pained him to say it.

Things had been going so good and then, like a switch had been flipped, they were back at each other's throats.

"I'm sorry too," Harry whispered, watching Draco sheepishly from the corner of his eye.

Draco nodded, his features smoothing out as the irritation drained away. After an overly long silence, Draco put his sketchpad back and pulled out his potions textbook. "I guess I'll get started on that essay Professor Snape assigned us."

"Me too," Harry replied, pulling out his own work.

This felt better – more familiar – both boys working in companionable silence as the minutes ticked by. Harry felt his eyelids growing heavy, the grip on his quill loosening just enough so that the quill slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, his chin resting gently against his chest as his head tipped forward.

<<<<<   >>>>>

A clattering sound caught Draco's attention, his eyes lasering in on the quill that had fallen to the floor. He glanced up at Harry and saw that the boy had nodded off, his head hung low at an awkward angle that made Draco feel uncomfortable just to see. With a sigh, he set his essay aside and moved Harry's own work off his lap. He stirred ever so slightly as Draco picked him up, navigating the too cramped bedroom, to place Harry on his bed.

"Shhh," Draco soothed as he settled his covers over the boy. "Go back to sleep."

Harry drifted off with a sleepy nod.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry was having the strangest dream. He was resting against the body of a giant silver dragon, its body radiating a pleasant warmth.

He opened his eyes, blinking blearily about the room and reached for the nightstand to grab his glasses, but his fingers met with nothing. The room was cast in the strange glow of twilight.

"About time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty," Draco teased.

"How did I.." he started, peering around at a vaguely familiar yet blurry room. He sat up suddenly, his heart thundering frantically in his chest as he remembered where he was.

"You know," Draco said in a drawling voice, interrupting his moment of panic. "You really need to stop dozing off all over the castle. Somebody with less than honorable intentions might take advantage of you."

Harry didn't have to see the boy's face to know that he was smirking at him.

"Here," Draco said, handing Harry his glasses. Everything came back into sharp focus when he put them on.

"Although I am only half joking about that," he continued. "I've noticed you keep making it a habit to take naps in the courtyard. Why exactly is that?"

Draco was staring at him with penetrating silver eyes. He shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, his eyes breaking away from the intense look on Draco's face.

"The cold grounds me," he explained. "It makes my dreams not feel so real."

Draco's face took on a slightly angry expression and Harry was afraid for a moment that he had upset the boy again. He wracked his brain trying to figure out where he had screwed up this time. Had he said the wrong thing?

"Harry," he growled. "I was serious when I told you about Pansy. You can't just go falling asleep all over the castle. Something bad is going to happen to you if you do."

Harry felt a twinge of guilt. What he had mistaken as anger on the boy's face was actually Draco's weird way of showing concern. Draco let out a long-suffering sigh, moving so that he was inches away from Harry with an intense and unreadable expression on his face. Harry's eyes dropped away from his gaze, furiously studying the comforter.

"In the future, if you want to take a nap, you can take one in my room. If the cold helps you that much, you can put out the fire and open the window. I don't care what you do, really. Just stop taking naps out in the open," he pleaded.

Harry looked up in surprise, his eyes meeting Draco's.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Harry asked, a little fearful of the answer.

"Isn't that how friends are supposed to behave?" Draco replied, his face still very close to Harry's.

Harry nodded, swallowing against the nervous feeling that was making his throat feel tight. Draco broke away at last, moving to the window to gather his broom.

"It's time for dinner," he announced, holding out a hand for Harry to join him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are so cute, don't you think? How many people thought they were going to kiss right there? I am ever so evil.


	30. The Conflicted Heart

Harry and Draco had decided to stagger their entrance, Harry entering first to waylay suspicions while Draco held back. Upon crossing the threshold, Ron and Hermione had zeroed in on him, watching like twin hawks as he approached their table and sheepishly took a seat.

"Where were you?" Hermione questioned, cutting right to the chase.

"You missed lunch," Ron exclaimed in a scandalized tone.

"And you missed Transfiguration class," Hermione added, sounding equally scandalized.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, glancing up as Draco entered the Great Hall, his eyes following his progress as he crossed the room. "I dozed off while working on my Potions essay."

Ron followed his gaze, an incredulous look appearing on his face when he realized what had caught Harry's eye.

"The Marauder's Map showed you were in the Slytherin Dorms with Draco Malfoy," Ron accused in a heated voice.

He tore his eyes away from the blond, turning to glare at his best friend.

"If you already knew the answer, why did you even bother asking?" Harry snapped, finding himself irritated by the idea that his friends had been spying on him.

Ron met his glare with a defiant expression. With a sudden wince, Ron broke their staring match. Hermione had kicked him under the table, a meaningful look passing between the two of them before Ron hung his head in resignation, conceding the floor to Hermione.

"It wasn't like that," Hermione explained, a pleading expression on her face. "We had no idea where you were. We just need to make sure you were safe."

Harry made a grumbling, dissatisfied sound deep within his throat before he spoke. "It's none of your concern where I choose to spend my time."

Hermione pursed her lips in anger, her breathing shallow and forced. "You promised," she hissed, her eyes burning into him. "No more secrets – remember?"

He was so stunned at the sudden air of hostility coming off her that his own irritation evaporated in an instant. His stomach twisted itself into a nervous knot. He had promised to let them in, to stop keeping secrets from them. It just made him angry to think that they were keeping tabs on him like he was some sort of naughty child.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." he began in a remorseful tone of voice.

"Complicated," Ron spat, a scowl settling over his face.

Hermione kicked him again before turning to look back at Harry.

"Fine," Harry grumbled, caving in to the desperation he saw in Hermione's eyes. "Draco wanted to show me something – and no I'm not telling you what," he added, seeing the frown on Hermione's face. "It's not my secret to tell."

Ron crossed his arms with a petulant look. Harry ignored it as he continued speaking.

"We started working on our Potions essay and I dozed off in his room. See, I wasn't lying – just omitting some of the truth," he explained.

"And that was all that happened?" Ron questioned, his expression doubtful.

"Yeah, what else would have happened?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Nothing," Ron grumbled. "Just be careful around him. He's planning something."

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd heard all about Ron's theories on what Malfoy was up to. It didn't take a genius to realize that what was really bothering Ron was the fear that he was losing his best friend to someone else. All Harry could do was sigh and hope that he got over it soon.

"If I walked around all day being fearful of the numerous threats against me, I'd go mad," Harry admonished with a rueful grin. "Just trust me, okay?"

Hermione preemptively kicked Ron again, preventing him from saying whatever it was he was about to say. It was probably for the best that she did because it could have easily resulted in another row and for once, Harry was actually hungry. Storming out in an angry huff would have made him doubly miserable – over the argument and the lost food.

They ate in silence, occasionally casting furtive glances at one another.

<<<<<   >>>>>

He was dreaming again. A treeless landscape covered in snow stretched out endlessly before him. In the distance, he caught sight of something red marring the snow. He ran toward it, his heart beating so fast he thought it would burst. As he approached, he discovered a pool of blood forming beneath the body of a silver dragon. Ron stood a few feet away holding the Sword of Godric Gryffindor aloft, a triumphant look on his sweaty face.

"I did it," he proclaimed, strutting towards Harry with the sword still in hand.

An animal instinct overcame Harry at the sight of the dragon. With a howl of rage, he charged at Ron with his wand, only his wand had transformed into a sword and he stabbed it deep into his friend's belly. Ron took two shocked steps backward, his panicked eyes glancing briefly at the dragon and then back at Harry.

"Because of him?" Ron cried out in betrayal, falling to his knees when his legs could no longer support his weight, the pitter patter of blood hitting snow echoing too loudly in Harry's ears.

"I'm sorry – I didn't," Harry apologized, mortified at what he had done. He hadn't meant to.

Behind his dying friend, the dragon's image shimmered briefly, transforming into a familiar blond Slytherin, lying bloody and unmoving in the snow. Harry turned away, running frantically from the scene behind him. He had not made it very far before he collided with an emaciated chest in mid-flight. He looked up to see a manic smile and cold dead eyes.

"You can't have your cake and eat it too," Sirius scolded. "When the time comes, you'll have to choose."

"NO!!!," Harry screamed in denial, launching at his Godfather, raining down blow after blow on his wasted face until it was mangled beyond recognition.

"HARRY!!!," Ron screamed from far away, startling him into consciousness, his chest heaving.

Ron had a painfully tight grip on Harry's wrists and a murderous look in his eyes. Hermione stood next to him, cupping her face in her hand, her lip busted and a vivid purple bruise appearing around her eye. She was holding herself a little stiffly, protecting other injuries that he could not see. Ron let go of his arms, his breath coming in short angry pants. Confused, Harry grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and put them on.

His heart was in his throat as realization dawned on him. Hermione had offered to stay with him that night and he had gratefully accepted. If only he could just rewind events, maybe none of this would have happened. Harry shuddered violently at the memory of his nightmare, allowing the guilt at what he had done to wash over him.

"It's okay," Hermione soothed, moving to hug him with a slight wince.

It wasn't okay though. While they had teased him about attacking them in his sleep before, it had been weak shoves and kicks, never with enough force to cause any real damage. But now...

Hermione's hair brushed gently against his face, her arms wrapped tightly around him, a coppery scent hung heavy in the air. He pushed her away, studying the damage he had done, gently brushing his thumb over her bloodied lip, tears prickling his eyes.

He had to get out of there.

"I need – I have to – I can't," he rambled, his chest constricting in a blind panic, eyes wide and mouth dry.

He shoved the two of them away, his thoughts tumbling end over end, the strongest of them the knowledge that he needed to get away from there. With a wild and reckless feeling, he snatched up his invisibility cloak and his firebolt and darted from the room.

"Harry, where are you – ," the rest of Hermione's question was cut off as he slammed the door behind him.


	31. A Good Hug Will Fix Everything

A loud crashing noise startled Draco awake, his wand instantly in hand to fight off whatever threat had gotten past his wards. A gasping sob emanated from a huddled form in front of his window. His breath caught in his throat, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest as he caught sight of two bright emerald eyes, swimming in anguished tears.

"Harry?" Draco questioned in confusion. "What happened?"

"I attacked Hermione," he wailed, repeatedly slamming his fists into his thighs.

Draco didn't know what to say, didn't know how people should behave in a situation like this. He stared at Harry, his own eyes growing wide with panic. Harry was shaking with emotion, drawing short, gasping, painful sounding breaths.

"Breathe," Draco reminded, worried that Harry's hyperventilating would cause him to pass out.

Harry didn't appear to have heard him, his breaths still coming out frantic and ragged. Draco threw off his covers and crossed over to the boy, gripping him by the shoulders rather roughly, and slamming him up against the bit of wall under his windowsill. His head hit the stone with a sickening crack. Draco hadn't intended to be so rough, his own panic getting the best of him.

"Breathe," Draco ordered, shoving the boy against the wall again, but not as hard this time.

Harry nodded, eyes wide with surprise as he looked up at Draco. He forced himself to take in a long drag of air and then let it out slowly.

"Again," Draco commanded with more forcefulness, feeling a little more confident about the situation. As long as there was a task he could concentrate on, then everything would be fine.

Harry took another long shuddering gulp of air, and then another, and then another until his breathing sounded normal again. He sagged against the wall, Draco's arms on his shoulders being the only thing holding him upright.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, a dead look settling in his eyes after all his emotions had drained away.

Without thinking, Draco slapped him across the cheek, his hand stinging a bit at the force of it, his other hand still pinning him against the wall.

"Don't be sorry," he spat in angry irritation before pulling away from the boy. Harry's body slumped forward, his head resting on his knees.

Harry had a nasty habit of taking responsibility for every bad thing that happened around him. Draco didn't intend to let him get away with it this time. He had to take control of the situation.

"Get up," Draco ordered in a testy voice. Harry made no move to comply.

"I SAID GET UP!," Draco shouted, yanking the boy to his feet by the collar of his pajamas and dragging him over to the couch. He shoved him down roughly, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of the boy.

"Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself," Draco growled, eyes locked on Harry. "I doubt you just barged in here in the middle of the night to have a good cry, so tell me what happened."

"I told you already," Harry grumbled, some of the fire coming back into his eyes. "I attacked Hermione."

"So you say, but that doesn't really explain anything," Draco shot back. "I mean, I get that words are hard for you Gryffindors to manage, but some details would be nice."

Harry glared at him so intensely that Draco feared for a moment for his own safety. Maybe there weren't any extenuating circumstances, maybe he had just lost his temper and attacked Granger without just cause. It would have been very unlikely, but...

"Just forget about it," Harry snarled, standing to leave. "It was stupid of me to come here."

Draco grabbed Harry by the wrist, preventing him from walking away, needing to know the whole story.

"Sorry," he apologized, feeling a twinge of irritation at the fact that he had to do this. "That was uncalled for. I will try to choose my words more carefully."

Harry slumped back down onto the couch, appearing to have accepted Draco's apology.

"So what happened?" Draco prodded.

"Hermione offered to sleep with me tonight...," Draco's brow creased in confusion at the revelation. "...and I had a really bad dream. I hurt her. I don't think Ron is ever going to forgive me. You should have seen how he was looking at me."

Draco resisted the urge to make a disparaging remark about Harry's best friend. It wouldn't have helped the situation.

"I feel like I'm losing control," Harry admitted, raking trembling fingers frantically through his messy hair. "Sure, I've thrown a few stray punches and kicks in my sleep, but this was different, this was violent and intentional. I thought she was someone else. I could have... I could... have... killed her. If Ron hadn't..."

A choking sob escaped him as he rapidly worked himself back into a panic again.

"Breathe," Draco ordered, grabbing the boy by the shoulders once more. "Just breathe."

Harry nodded weakly, his face scrunched up as he concentrated on slowing his breathing.

"We'll figure something out," Draco assured him. "This wasn't your fault; it was an accident. I'm sure they realize that."

Harry stiffened quite suddenly, fixing Draco with a penetrating stare that sent shivers down his spine.

"I killed him," Harry gasped. "In my dream – I killed him. It wasn't an accident."

"Killed who?"

"Ron," he whispered darkly. "He – he killed you, only you were a dragon and then I – I didn't mean to – I was so angry – I just ran at him with a sword. Then Sirius showed up and told me I would have to choose. I – I tried to kill him too, only it wasn't Sirius I was punching, it was Hermione."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Draco's heart gave a happy little flutter. Harry had killed his best friend in order to avenge his death. While it was just a dream, Draco struggled not to grin madly at the boy. He felt like he wanted to whoop and holler, like he wanted to run through the streets shouting his victory to the world. Harry's ragged breathing jerked him rather violently back to reality. Now was not the time to start celebrating.

"Breathe," Draco reminded with a little shake of his shoulders, the barest trace of a smile on his lips.

Harry slumped forward, his forehead resting gently on Draco's shoulders. Draco's heart gave another happy flutter as he wrapped the boy in his arms, pulling him closer. He had carried the boy plenty of times before, but never could it have been considered an actual hug. Why was he getting so excited over a silly hug? Except for family, had he ever hugged anyone before? Certainly none of his housemates had garnered this level of affection from him. Was it because this was the first time he had willingly hugged someone that wasn't a family member? Draco marveled at the warm feeling that spread through his chest.

"Let's get some sleep," Draco coaxed, whispering the words into Harry's ear.

Harry nodded in resignation, allowing himself to be led. He pulled up short at the edge of the bed, face filling with dread. Draco tugged gently at his hand, trying to get the boy to move.

"I can't," he whispered. "I might..."

"Attack me?" Draco questioned.

Harry nodded.

"I think I can handle myself against one puny Gryffindor," Draco replied with a smug expression on his face.

In response, Harry smiled weakly, allowing himself to be dragged into bed when Draco tugged at him again.


	32. What's With All These Butterflies?

Draco stalked across the Great Hall, heading straight for the Gryffindor table with a scowl on his face. Harry had opted to stay in bed, not feeling brave enough to face his friends. He had asked Draco to let them know he was safe. Both had their backs to the door, neither were aware of his approach. He leaned in close to the back of Granger's head, ignoring Weasley completely.

"Harry's fine. He'll be staying with me," he whispered possessively. "Tell his professors that he's taking a mental health day."

To an outside observer, it must look like he was threatening the girl. She spun around in surprise, the bruising on her face catching him momentarily off guard. Weasley's face was scrunched up in an ugly glower as he caught sight of him. Fearful that he might get punched again, Draco side-stepped a bit so that Hermione was better positioned between the two of them.

"Here," he offered, handing the girl a jar of Professor Snape's healing salve. "Should help with the cuts and bruises. Harry's really sorry about that by the way."

"Don't take it," Weasley snarled in warning. "It's probably poisonous."

Draco rolled his eyes, wondering once again what Harry saw in the boy. There were certainly better options if he needed a best friend.

"Test it if you want," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

Granger accepted the jar with a gracious smile.

"Thank you," she stated, very obviously cutting off the remark that Weasley was about to make.

Draco nodded before crossing back to the Slytherin table where he loaded up his pockets with food to bring back to his room.

<<<<<    >>>>>

"How were they?" Harry questioned tentatively as Draco handed him a biscuit.

Sighing, Draco sat on the edge of the bed next to Harry before speaking. "Good, I guess. Granger didn't seem too upset, but it's impossible to tell what that scowling ape is thinking."

Harry choked on a bit of biscuit, violently coughing to clear his windpipe. "Ape?" he gasped, his face taking on an angry flush.

"Sorry," Draco appeased, a small smile still on his face. "Force of habit."

Harry settled down, clearing his throat one last time before taking another bite.

"But I wouldn't be lying if I said that all he does is scowl at me," Draco explained. "It's hard to get the warm fuzzies for someone like that."

"Just give him time," Harry sighed. "He'll come around. It might take months...or years, but he'll eventually come around. The real question is – will you?"

"I won't make any promises," Draco replied, meeting Harry's earnest green eyes. "But for you, I will try to be civil in the very least."

It was the best Harry was getting out of him and Harry seemed to accept the terms as he went back to eating.

After Harry had finished, he took off his glasses and flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes with his wrist. Draco scowled at him, finding the idea of spending the whole day stuck inside with a mopey Gryffindor unappealing. But it wasn't like he could just leave the boy either. What if he had another attack?

He crossed the room, sitting on the couch with his sketchpad, resigning himself to the task at hand. It was winter break all over again.

The hours crawled by in agonizing silence. Unable to sleep, Harry had borrowed a quill and parchment and was making another stab at his potions essay. Draco kept glancing at him, distracted by the way he worried his lips with his teeth when he was concentrating hard. Draco was somewhat relieved when lunch time had finally arrived.

"Do you think you're ready to make an appearance?" Draco questioned, snapping the boy out of his thoughts.

Harry studied him with a thoughtful expression, worrying his lip in that same way that Draco was rapidly finding aggravating.

"No, not yet," he admitted, glancing away in shame.

"That's fine," Draco assured him. "I'll bring you up a sandwich."

Harry nodded, eyes following Draco as he crossed to the window and left the room.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco leaned back against a tree, taking a bite of his sandwich as he watched Harry skip rocks across the frozen lake, the odd chirping sound that it made echoing around them. Not wanting to spend another second cooped up inside, he had suggested that they eat their lunch by the lake. He was relieved when Harry had agreed to venture out with him.

"That sound never gets old," Harry remarked with a boyish grin on his face as he approached, taking a seat on the ground next to him.

Draco handed him one of the sandwiches he had nabbed from the Great Hall.

"Thanks," he acknowledged, shadows dancing across his smiling face as the leaves rustled gently in the late winter breeze.

Draco's stomach twisted uncomfortably as he watched Harry. He wondered vaguely if something in the sandwich had gone bad. He thought to warn Harry, but it was already too late – the boy had just put the last bite into his mouth and was chewing it in silence, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead.

"Madam Pomfrey cleared me to go back to Quidditch practice," Harry remarked, eyes tracking a cloud that looked suspiciously like a prowling lion.

"That's nice," Draco grumbled bitterly, his mood turning sour at the thought of Quidditch.

Harry turned to look at him with a frown. "I was thinking that we could start practicing together," Harry suggested. "I know you aren't on the team anymore, but you've got me beat on experience. I could really use the help."

"I'd like that," Draco admitted, excited at the thought of flying with Harry again.

"Good," Harry replied, sighing contentedly as he leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes against the brightness of the sky.

It wasn't long before Harry had drifted off to sleep, slumping to his side, his body pressing against Draco's, his head resting on Draco's shoulder. Draco watched him, a smile tugging at his lips. Anyone could see them like this and he supposed that was the reason his heart kept fluttering in his chest at odd moments.

"Draco," Harry moaned in his sleep, setting off the butterflies in Draco's stomach once again.

Draco found his eyes drawn to Harry's full, red lips – the same lips that had just moaned his name in a way that made his whole body tingle. They were so close now, Harry's warm body pressed against his. He reached out a hand to brush his thumb gently over Harry's lips, confused by the fact that he wanted to do so much more. He appeased his longing by placing a gentle kiss on the side of Harry's head, his messy black hair tickling Draco's nose.

This was most definitely not the feelings that a friend should have for another friend. There was absolutely no way that this could end well. With a sick feeling settling into the pit of his stomach, he realized that he needed to shut this down before it went any further.


	33. Vanished

Draco shivered against the cold when the warm body leaning against him pulled away. He wasn't certain when he had fallen asleep, but the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and the temperature was steadily dropping.

Harry stretched out beside him like a cat, yawning as he worked out all the kinks in his body. He turned to smile at Draco, eyes reflecting the blazing amber color of the dying sun.

"That was a good nap," he remarked, seeming to be in a much better mood. "What time do you think it is?"

"Probably close to dinner time," Draco replied, glancing towards the lit windows of the castle in the distance. "We should probably start heading back."

Without a word, Harry stood as Draco did, striding along beside him as they traversed the uneven terrain, their hands occasionally brushing against one another.

"I'll go in first," Draco announced when they approached the Great Hall, thinking that it would settle Harry's nerves to know that a friendly face would be waiting for him inside.

Harry's movements were beginning to slow with each step as if he were struggling against some unseen force.

"You can't keep avoiding them forever," Draco scolded with a stern look on his face.

"I know," Harry sighed.

"Maybe you should go first instead," Draco suggested, shoving the boy forward a bit when he had stopped moving entirely. He was afraid that Harry would change his mind if he were left alone. While he wanted to be the smiling face that greeted him in the Great Hall, he also wanted Harry to eat and make up with his friends. When had he gotten so sappy? These stupid Gryffindors must be rubbing off on him.

Harry nodded in acceptance, visibly steeling himself as he crossed the threshold. There was a predictable drop in the noise level as people took notice of his entrance. Draco wondered if Harry was even aware that it happened like that every time.

When the clamor of voices picked back up, Draco made his own entrance, careful to only cast the briefest of glances in Harry's direction. Granger was hugging him with tears in her eyes and Weasley did not appear to be scowling. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the sight of them, which he quickly brushed aside.

At the Slytherin table, Pansy was surrounded by a group of Draco's former lackeys – Crabbe and Goyle included. She had a satisfied smirk on her face, her eyes following Draco as he approached. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and had to fight down the urge to take flight.

He shook the thought from his head, reminding himself that he needed to eat. This was non-negotiable. If he didn't eat, he wouldn't have energy, then he'd make a mistake thereby walking right into the viper's fangs. He had to keep his wits about him if he was going to survive the year.

He sat with his back to Harry, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to look at the boy. He could feel Pansy's eyes on him as he quickly shoveled down food in a somewhat undignified manner. To hell with decorum. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave.

With a mad fluttering of his heart, he wondered where Harry would be sleeping tonight. There was no way around it – he'd just have to ask him. Dinner finished, he exited the Great Hall, hiding a bit in the shadows as he waited for Harry.

He was growing bored; his thoughts taking mad twists and turns as the seconds ticked by. Every time the door started to open, his heart would skip a beat only to plummet into his stomach when he realized it wasn't Harry. This was getting quite ridiculous and he started pacing back and forth to burn off all his nervous energy. There was no reason for all this; he was just going to ask Harry what his plans were for the night. Why was he so on edge over this?

Just when he had managed to convince himself to set aside this foolish idea and head back to his dorm room, the doors opened to reveal the Golden Trio. They stood, chatting just outside the door in a friendly manner. Granger hugged Harry one more time, Weasley gave him a reassuring pat on the back and then the two of them left in the opposite direction.

Draco's heart was trying to escape from his chest as he realized that Harry was alone and walking towards him. He stepped out of the shadows, making his presence known.

"Where are you going?" Draco questioned, keeping his tone neutral as he pulled up next to the boy.

"Remedial potions," Harry replied, his posture growing stiff with apprehension the further down the corridor they walked.

Draco's eyebrows lifted in a questioning look. He had completely forgotten his suspicions regarding this topic.

"Remedial potions?" he asked dubiously. "I'm not an idiot, Harry. What are the two of you really up to?"

Harry stopped suddenly, a surprised expression on his face. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Probably only to me," Draco reassured him. "So, will you tell me about those lessons?"

Harry studied him, a thousand different emotions playing out across his face.

"I will – later – tonight," he said, dropping each word in a quick and deliberate manner as if fighting against himself. He raked shaking fingers through his messy hair, pulling in a deep and steadying breath.

"I have to go now," he announced in a clipped voice, very obviously making it known that he didn't want to be followed as he continued down the hall.

Draco felt a stab of heartache at the dismissal, but then felt his mood returning as he replayed the whole conversation. Harry had said ' _tonight_ ,' which could only mean one thing – Harry would be coming back to him. He smiled at the thought as he made his way back to his dorm room, meandering across the castle grounds in a happy daze.

A strong pair of arms grabbed him roughly from behind, a cold spike of fear shot through his belly at the realization that he had let his guard down.

<<<<<   >>>>>

With a weary sigh, Harry mentally prepared himself to make the short flight to Draco's window. The entire walk over, he had been practicing what he was going to say in his head. How could someone even begin to properly explain the connection that he and Voldemort shared? The conversation that he had been playing out sounded mad and he worried that at best Draco wouldn't believe him.

And if Draco did believe him? Then there would be no doubt about the truth of Trelawney's prophecy. It seemed that Draco had chosen to dismiss the idea that anything coming from her had to be absolute rubbish. He often expressed irritation when everyone treated it as an inevitable fact. Did he really want to end all that for Draco?

The room was dark as he entered, the fireplace dead and not a single candle lit. He felt the familiar tendrils of dread wrapping tightly across his chest as his eyes tore across the room, frantically searching for any sign of his friend.

"Draco," he called, his shaky voice just barely above a whisper. There was no answer. At once, he had his wand in hand, lighting it up to confirm his suspicions.

Draco was not there.


	34. Innocence Lost

Draco was not there.

In a flash of panic, he launched himself out of the window, getting his broom between his legs just seconds before he hit the ground.

" _Nox_ ," he whispered, realizing his wand was still lit. He pocketed it quickly, his heart thundering wildly in his chest as he tore across the grounds, running at breakneck speed towards the Gryffindor Tower.

"Strawberry Sherbet," he growled, impatiently waiting for the Fat Lady to open the portrait hole. As soon as there was space enough, he squeezed through the opening and made a mad dash for the dorms, almost knocking down a startled second-year on his way up the stairs.

His breathing became erratic when he couldn't find the map in its usual hiding space. Darkness was beginning to engulf his vision. He closed his eyes against the sudden dizzy feeling, forcing himself to take slow deep breaths so that he wouldn't pass out. He needed to calm himself, to think. He quieted the alarm bells that were ringing in his brain, pulling rationality into himself with each shuddering breath.

Ron probably had the map, but a quick glance towards his bed was enough to confirm that Ron was not there. It was at that moment that he realized there were three sets of large, worried eyes studying him. He spun around to meet Seamus' gaze.

"Where's Ron?" he questioned, his voice sounding pleading and desperate in his ears.

"Probably with Hermione in the Astronomy Tower or something," he replied, staring back at Harry in shock.

Without sparing another glance back, he took off in that direction. He found the two in a compromising position but was too frantic to spare a thought for what he might be interrupting.

"Ha-Ha-Harrry," Hermione sputtered in surprise, quickly tugging at her skirts to cover herself, her face bright red in embarrassment.

Ron jumped back in alarm, spinning away so that he could pull his pants up without Harry seeing anything.

"Where's the map?" Harry demanded, holding out his hand in a forceful manner.

Ron was taken aback by the suddenness of it all. He stared at Harry, eyes wide as he took in the boy's disheveled and sweaty appearance.

"What do you need the map for?" he questioned in a slightly mistrustful tone of voice.

"Draco's in trouble," Harry growled in frustration, shoving his hand forcefully in Ron's direction. "I need the map. I have to find out where they've taken him."

Comprehension dawning on his face, Ron quickly reached into his robes and handed it to Harry.

They huddled around him, eyes scanning the page in conjunction with his. With a sharp intake of breath, he located Draco's name, realizing at once that he was in the abandoned classroom – their abandoned classroom – and he was not alone.

He shoved the map into his robes, flying down the steps of the astronomy tower at a reckless rate of speed. He was vaguely aware that Ron and Hermione were hot on his heels, charging after him in an equally reckless manner.

Almost at the classroom now, he pulled up short, peaking around the corner to confirm that Crabbe and Goyle were still standing guard. After having seen the map, he knew that he would find Nott and Parkinson inside.

Without having to say a thing, Ron and Hermione had both pulled out their wands, determined expressions on their faces as they exchanged some sort of signal. Like a beautifully choreographed dance, they both stepped around the corner, stunning the two boys before they even had a chance to recognize they were under attack.

Harry gave an appreciative whistle, smiling at the scene in front of him as he strode to the door. Loud as a thunderclap, he slammed the door open, disarming Parkinson in an instant before stalking towards the larger boy.

His vision went red as he caught sight of Nott, his pants pulled down around his ankles. Nott had Draco pinned against the wall, furious tears rolling down his pale face. Harry had never wanted to hurt someone so bad in his life. He cast the first spell that came to his mind.

" _CRUCIO!"_

The force of his anger behind that spell slammed into Nott's body. With a violent spasm and a tortured shriek, he fell to the floor, his continued screaming echoing around the room as his body was wrenched and twisted about.

"HARRY, STOP IT!" Hermione shrieked, tugging desperately at his arm to get him to break the spell.

He didn't want to stop though, he wanted to pour every ounce of hate that he could into it, he wanted Nott to suffer for what he had done.

" _EXPELLIARMUS!_ " Ron shouted, causing Harry's wand to fly out of his hand, effectively ending the curse.

With a dark and threatening look, he rounded on his best friend, eyes blazing with fury. Hermione jumped in between them. The sight of the fresh bruises still on her face startled him back to his senses. He took a hesitant step back, eyes darting between the two of them.

"Stop this," Hermione commanded. "Malfoy needs you."

With a shocked expression, he turned to acknowledge his true purpose in being there.

Draco was slumped against the wall, his body sagging against the weight of what had happened. With cautious steps, he approached the boy.

"Draco," he whispered hesitantly.

Furious cold eyes snapped up to meet his, sending a chill down Harry's spine.

"Don't you fucking touch me," he hissed.

"Draco," Harry implored, his voice cracking slightly.

"I said don't touch me," he snarled, standing up to straighten out his clothing with shaking hands.

Draco brushed passed Harry like a cold winter breeze, throwing off every attempt to stop him from leaving.

Harry didn't know what to do, so he did the first thing that came to his mind. He clobbered Parkinson in the face with so much force that she lost her footing and went crashing to the floor. Something in his eyes must have terrified her then because she glanced up at him, her whole body trembling as she rambled out an explanation.

"It was all his idea," she cried, pointing at the body of the larger boy a few feet away. "I was just going along with it because he threatened me."

"I was so afraid," she wailed, crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks as she glanced around to see what effect she was having. No one was buying it.

"Let's get these four to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione suggested, giving Parkinson a cold and dispassionate look.

"I'll get...," Ron paused, casting a worried glance in Harry's direction. "How about you go after Malfoy. Hermione and I can wrap things up in here."

Ron's suggestion made a lot of sense. He took off after his friend without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't, but the muses, they are so mean. I'm crying here. I can't believe I had to write that. I swear, the muses take it in turns with those poor boys. Won't they ever be allowed to be just happy? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. ::runs off crying::


	35. No Time for Love

Draco found himself furiously wiping at tears that wouldn't stop falling. He'd been so stupid. All this time he had been warning Harry to watch his back and then... He shuddered at the memory of Nott's body pressed against his, of rough kisses forced upon his lips, of hot breath on his neck, of smiling cat-like eyes watching the whole thing play out. If Harry hadn't shown up when he did...he felt sick just thinking about what could have happened, what  _would_  have happened. How would he ever be able to look Harry in the eyes again?

Draco rubbed frantically at the spot on his neck where Nott had breathed on him, struggling with the memory of how terrified he'd been.

"Draco," Harry's tentative voice called out from just inside the window. His arrival had gone completely unnoticed.

"Go away," Draco growled, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed. He didn't want Harry to see him like this. He felt sick with shame.

Harry ignored his warning as he moved closer, wrapping his arms around Draco's trembling body. Draco pushed against him, struggling to break free, struggling against the memory of Nott and his overpowering presence. Harry didn't seem to understand; didn't seem to realize the effect he was having on him.

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed, clinging desperately to him. "I'm sorry I wasn't faster. I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner."

Draco stopped resisting, eyes wide as the realization hit him. Draco finally understood why Harry had reacted so violently before. He thought of those scorching emerald eyes when he appeared in the classroom as deadly as a lightning strike, the look of abject terror that had played out on Pansy's face, the way Nott's agonized screams echoed all around him as Harry towered over him. Remembering those things gave Draco strength, helped him to compose himself so that he could face the boy.

"You made it in time," he whispered into Harry's ear, mentally reminding himself of that fact as well.

Harry pulled back with a surprised gasp, studying Draco's face to see if he was lying.

"I made it in time?" Harry questioned in disbelief.

Draco nodded.

"Then why.....?" he gestured at the angry red mark on Draco's neck.

Draco clapped his hand over it, glancing away in embarrassment and shame.

"I was an idiot," he admitted softly. "I messed up."

"But nobody is blaming you," Harry stated in confusion.

"I just need some time to sort out how I feel about this," Draco explained, pushing Harry further away.

"Oh," he whispered softly, suddenly looking very lost and vulnerable.

In response to the look on Harry's face, Draco's heart gave a little tug. He leaned forward, capturing Harry's lips with his own for the briefest of moments. He wasn't sure what had possessed him; maybe he wanted to burn away the memory of Nott's rough lips on his.

Harry's eyes went wide with shock. He pulled away, his fingers brushing gently across his lips as if testing that they were real.

"Sorry," Draco whispered, a little bit in shock himself at what he'd done.

Harry's eyes darkened, he grasped Draco's face with his rough hands, pulling his chin up so that he could press his warm lips against his. It was Draco's turn to be surprised and he found himself surrendering to Harry's needy kiss.

They pulled apart, breathless and amazed, losing themselves in each other's eyes.

"That was..." Draco began.

Harry shook his head, placing a finger gently on his lips to stop him from continuing. Draco understood what he meant. As long as they didn't put a name to it, there was no risk. Names were absolute - they came with expectations and pressure and heartache. If they could just exist – two warm bodies acting purely on instinct...

Without saying a thing, Harry crawled into the bed, pulling Draco into his arms in a warm embrace. With his back to his chest, he couldn't see Harry's face, couldn't guess at what the boy was thinking.

"Can we just stay like this for a while?" Harry whispered, his breath tickling the back of Draco's neck.

Draco nodded. What else was he supposed to do? Everything about this just felt so right. If Harry had asked it of him, he would have gladly stayed like this forever.

Just as his eyelids were growing heavy, he had a sudden flash of memory. He spun in Harry's arms so that he could face him, his eyes locked onto his.

"You were going to tell me about your 'remedial potion lessons' tonight," he reminded.

Harry grimaced, pulling away from Draco with an unhappy expression on his face. Draco was beginning to regret that he brought it up.

"I did promise," he stated hollowly, eyes staring off in the distance.

Draco snuggled back into his embrace, placing an arm across his chest to show him that he was not alone. It seemed to be exactly what Harry needed; he relaxed a little, turning to gaze at Draco with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Professor Snape is teaching me Occlumency."

Draco's brow creased in confusion. While it was certainly strange that Severus would do that, he couldn't understand why that warranted such a feeling of foreboding.

"Why?" Draco questioned, fearing the answer.

Harry sighed, his eyes swirling with conflicting emotion.

"It's because of the connection between Voldemort and I," he muttered darkly. "There are times when we can enter each other's mind, feel each other's emotions, see what the other is seeing."

Draco's eyes widened in alarm. No wonder he had been so mistrustful of Harry for all these years. This boy could be channeling Voldemort at any moment and no one would even know about it. Seeing Draco's fearful expression, Harry tried to reassure him.

"I have it under control," he promised. "That's what those lessons are for."

Draco nodded, watching Harry bring a hand to rub the scar on his forehead in a self-conscious gesture.

"When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, he hadn't counted on the blood magic that my mother had used to protect me. The killing curse rebounded, mingling with her magic to forge a bond between us that protected us both from the spell."

His breathing started to quicken as he relived painful memories, a far away look on his face.

"Two years ago, Voldemort used that magical bond, used my mother's magic, to restore himself. He used it – my blood – to make himself invincible. So long as I am alive, he can't ever truly be killed."

That confession hit Draco like a bolt of lightning. He forgot how to breathe as he watched Harry, rubbing at his scar a little more vigorously as if the thoughts were causing him physical pain. Maybe they were. All those years that Draco had teased him about it, never imagining the burden he was carrying. 

"Right now," Harry continued, pulling his hand away to look Draco in the eyes. "The Order is trying to find and capture Voldemort. He keeps staying two steps ahead of them, but when they do, when they finally catch him...then I...then they'll...," he trailed off, struggling to complete the sentence.

"What?" Draco exclaimed, outraged at what he was hearing. "They'll kill you? Is that Dumbledore's great big plan for defeating Voldemort?"

Harry nodded quickly, a guilty expression on his face. "That's what the prophecy says," he whispered.

Draco started shaking with fury. When Hermione had first mentioned the prophecy, he had eventually managed to convince himself that any prophecy of Trelawney's had to be utter rubbish. Hearing that people had made plans to act on it...

"I refuse to accept this," he stated, a determined look coming over his face. "There has to be another way."

Harry let out a bitter laugh, freezing Draco in place with mirthless eyes.

"The thing that bothers me the most about this whole situation, is that they won't even let me help them. I'm old enough to die for the cause, but not old enough to fight for it. I hate the idea of just sitting around waiting for the inevitable to happen."

Draco pulled away, desperately holding onto his sense of disbelief. If he allowed himself to accept this, if he started to believe... He didn't think his heart could handle that.

"Can we stop talking about this?" Draco pleaded, a hitch in his voice as he spoke.

"Yes," Harry whispered, pulling Draco back into his arms, his warm body flush against his, reminding him that he was real and alive. Draco snuggled closer into his warmth, his heart breaking with every minute that passed. He felt like crying, but all his tears were spent. It was just him and Harry, clinging to one another in the darkness.

"I'm sorry I had to tell you," he said, his face moving so close to Draco's that his eyes had merged into one single piece of emerald. "But you deserve to know the truth."

Deep down inside, Draco knew it was the truth. It explained why Voldemort frequently told his followers that Harry was his to kill. He didn't want his followers to know about his one true weakness, but he couldn't risk one of them accidentally killing the boy.

"It isn't fair," Draco replied heatedly, finding himself suddenly burning up with injustice at the whole situation. "They shouldn't be asking this of you. Why can't they just lock him up forever? Why do you have to die for this?"

Harry pulled back, a patronizing expression on his face that made Draco want to punch him.

"Do you think his followers would ever stop trying to find him? It's not just him, it's his whole movement. If he's left alive this nightmare will never end. I can't keep losing people because of this."

At that moment, the moonlight illuminating his face, he looked so small and vulnerable – a child really, a child with a very adult burden on his shoulders. Draco pulled him in close, clinging so desperately to him as if he could chase away his fate with the force of his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you either," Draco whispered, placing a light kiss in the boy's messy hair.

Harry nodded against his shoulder, neither of them saying anything as the time passed, each second a betrayal that brought them that much closer to the inevitable. If only he could stop time. If only they could stay like this forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now Draco knows the whole truth. Sorry I led you all to believe that Draco had been raped. The muses wanted me to do it, but I disobeyed. I just couldn't bring myself to write it. I fear we might pay the price for my mutiny later.


	36. What Do We Need Witnesses For?

Draco smiled at the warm body pressed against him before the memories of last night stole his breath away. He fought against the tears that were threatening to appear, his eyes prickling uncomfortably as he buried his face into Harry's chest. Harry tightened his embrace, pulling Draco closer as if trying to make them one.

"Can I keep you?" Harry whispered, causing the butterflies in Draco's stomach to take flight.

Unable to find his voice, he simply nodded against Harry's chest.

A pecking sound at the window startled them both. A drab-looking barn owl stood glaring at them through the window, a small envelope with green writing affixed to its leg. Begrudgingly, he untangled himself from Harry's arms, crossing to the window to retrieve the letter.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy & Mr. Harry Potter_   
_Slytherin Boys Dormitory - Room #7_   
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"This can't be good," Draco remarked, noticing the letter was addressed to the two of them.

Harry sidled up alongside him, a frown appearing on his face when he had finished reading the outside of the envelope. Draco quickly tore it open.

_Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy & Mr. Harry Potter,_

_Your presence has been requested in my office_ after   
breakfast _. Please be prepared to bear_ testimony   
regarding _last night's events._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus P. Dumbledore_  
Headmaster _at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

When they had both finished with the letter, they exchanged a worried look.

"Guess we should head down to breakfast," Harry announced, shrugging nonchalantly. "You go on without me. I need to go back to my dorm room to change..." he paused to sniff himself, "...and maybe take a shower."

Harry reached out a hand to affectionately stroke his cheek. "I'll see you in just a bit," he promised, a warm smile on his face.

It was startling to see Harry behaving with such normalcy. Nothing about any of this was normal. How was it that life could continue on completely oblivious to the tragedy that was unfolding? How did the sun still rise every day, bringing them all that much closer to the inevitable?

Harry frowned, his eyes growing profoundly sorrowful. "Will you stop looking at me like that?" he implored. "Like you're counting down the seconds in your mind. I can't live like that."

Draco shifted nervously, wondering what kind of face he should be making in a situation like this. He went for the only one he knew well, pulling down his familiar Malfoy Mask of Disdain.

"Better?" he snarled, trying to keep up appearances.

Harry let out a short barking laugh, emerald eyes sparkling in the early morning sunlight.

"Not really," he snorted. "But it will do. I'll see you at breakfast."

Before Draco could think of a witty comeback, Harry had jumped out of the window in a reckless manner. Draco leaned over the ledge in alarm, watching as Harry effortlessly pulled his broom under him as he fell, stopping his descent just in time.

"Gryffindors," Draco grumbled with a shake of his head, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"When we got to the Headmaster's Office, they clamped up," Hermione whispered, leaning over in a conspiratorial manner. "Parkinson refused to say anything until their parents were notified. Since it was already so late, the Headmaster's hands were tied. He said he would send out notice immediately, but in the meantime, they would be confined to one of the guest rooms in the castle until an investigation could be completed. Participating in..." she trailed off with a shudder, unable to put those events into words. "Well, they can be expelled for that."

"Will they still be expelled though?" Harry asked. "I mean, we stopped it just in time. Technically all they did was bully him up to that point."

"We can only hope that their intentions will count against them in this case," Hermione replied. "It could still be considered sexual harassment in the very least."

Ron had been unnaturally silent throughout the entire conversation, nibbling at his food without his usual gusto.

Harry shrugged, his eyes glancing across the room to land on Draco. He had just finished his meal, taking a few more sips of his pumpkin juice before standing. It brought a smile to his face to see the boy back to his old self.

"I guess we're about to find out," Harry announced, gesturing in Draco's direction.

"Good luck," Hermione encouraged as Harry stood to follow the boy.

"Don't you think it's a bit too convenient that we got there just in time?" Ron questioned darkly, stopping Harry in his tracks. "The more I think about it, the fishier it sounds."

Blood boiling, Harry had to resist the urge to clobber his friends. How dare he imply that this was some sort of set up – that Draco had faked it to garner sympathy.

"You didn't see his face last night," he snarled, stomping off in a rage.

Harry was certain that Hermione would be having words with Ron and didn't feel like sticking around to hear it. He had more important things to do.

"Who's put bulbadox powder in your shorts this morning?" Draco inquired upon seeing the look on his face.

"Ron's being an idiot again," Harry explained, choosing not to elaborate for fear of upsetting him.

"Again?" Draco exclaimed in mock-surprise. "I thought that was his perpetual state of being. You mean to tell me he has moments where he isn't an idiot?"

"A few," Harry grumbled.

They smiled at one another then, feeling a little giddy about the joke they had shared at Ron's expense.

The smile slowly faded from Draco's face, his features hardening in resolve. "You ready to go?" he asked.

Harry's mood took a plunge as well, settling back into the nervousness that he had been struggling with for most of the morning. "No time like the present," he sighed.

Slowly, the two made their way to the Headmaster's office, preparing themselves for the difficult task ahead. The password had not changed since the last time he had been there, and Harry quickly found himself knocking at the door.

"Come in," Headmaster Dumbledore commanded.

Hesitantly, he opened the door and poked his head in. "You asked to see us, Headmaster?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, yes. Please have a seat," he replied, waving his hand at the two empty chairs in front of his desk. "Give me a second to send for the accused."

Harry noted the brief panicked expression that played out on Draco's face at the thought of having to face his tormentors. He moved closer to him to place his hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze before pulling it away. Draco flashed him a quick appreciative smile before taking a seat. Four more seats were set to his right, awaiting the arrival of ' _the accused_.'

Parkinson was the first to enter, a cross expression on her face. As Nott followed in behind her, Harry glanced at Draco in concern. Draco's eyes seemed to glaze over as if refusing to acknowledge Nott's very existence. Crabbe and Goyle were the only ones of the four to look contrite, their heads hung low, eyes darting away to avoid Draco's gaze as they stepped through the door.

"Good," Headmaster Dumbledore announced. "Everyone is here. Mrs. Granger and Mr. Weasley gave their statements last night, but I would like to hear from the both of you."

Draco glanced in Parkinson's direction, a hard look in his eyes.

"What happened last night was all just a simple misunderstanding," Draco announced, eyes never leaving Parkinson's as he spoke.

Harry choked on his tongue, head whipping around to stare at Draco in wide-eyed surprise. Draco shook his head imperceptibly, a threatening look on his face. Harry couldn't understand what had possessed the boy to defend his attackers. They deserved to be expelled. What kind of game was Draco playing at?

"It was just a silly little prank," Draco elaborated.

Headmaster Dumbledore examined Draco with a sad look in his eyes. He sighed, turning to face Harry with a pleading expression. "And what did you witness last night?" he inquired.

Draco shot Harry another dark and threatening look, his eyebrows raised in challenge. Harry felt a trill of nervous energy race through his body.

"I saw..." he paused, glancing questioningly in Draco's direction. "I saw the same thing that Ron and Hermione did. Nott was half-naked with Draco pinned against the wall. Parkinson was nearby watching the whole thing."

At hearing her name, Parkinson quickly jumped to her defense, exploiting the opening that Draco had given her.

"I'm sorry that you misread the situation like that," she explained in a simpering voice. "It is as Draco said; it was simply a friendly little prank. No one was going to get hurt."

Harry felt his blood boiling at the idea that the four of them were going to get away with what they had done. Headmaster Dumbledore gazed at him in sympathy, sighing loudly before he spoke.

"I'm afraid there isn't enough evidence to corroborate your version of events," he informed before turning to look at the four Slytherins that had just let out relieved sighs. "I expect to see you all in detention with Professor Snape for the rest of the month. While pranks, however harmless they might seem, are generally acceptable, this prank seems to have crossed a few lines. I will be discussing this with your parents when they arrive."

The four nodded in understanding.

"Please report to your Head of House immediately."

After they had filed out, Draco stood to leave as well.

"Mr. Malfoy," Headmaster Dumbledore called. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Draco gave him a curt nod before exiting the room. Harry was stunned at how everything had turned out. In a flash of anger, he chased after the boy, spinning him around at the bottom of the stairs.

"What the hell was that all about?" he screamed, his face flushed.

Draco looked back at him with a defiant expression. "I did what I had to do," he hissed.

"They should have been expelled! Why did you bail them out like that?"

"You don't understand anything, Potter," Draco sneered. "This is the world I have to live in. Malfoy or not, I can't afford to go making enemies of the wrong people. What would happen to me if I got those four expelled?"

Harry sucked in a quick breath, comprehension dawning on him.

"They've actually been rather tame up until this point," Draco elaborated. "I imagine that things will get a little easier for me now that I have this to hold over their heads."

Harry understood now. Draco didn't have the same luxuries, the same social pull that Harry currently enjoyed. No matter what he did, he was still The-Boy-Who-Lived. Draco was just Draco – and he had no defenders.

"You could have given me some warning," Harry grumbled, upset that he had been caught off guard like that.

"Sorry, I didn't think to tell you. It seemed so self-evident to me that I didn't stop to consider that your stupid Gryffindor notions would lead you to other conclusions," he explained with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face.

Harry was torn, feeling like he should be getting angry at the obvious insult, but glad that Draco felt like himself enough to give it.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied with a smirk, deciding to play the game. "I don't make a habit of deceiving people to get out of a difficult situation. I prefer using different techniques."

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You know, you can't solve every problem with just your firsts," he admonished.

Harry took a threatening step closer, their noses almost touching. "Us Gryffindors are just very physical people," he whispered, leaning in to capture Draco's lips with his own in a quick and passionate kiss.

"I've noticed," Draco breathlessly replied.


	37. The Hand Job

Pansy settled herself down in the seat across from Draco at lunch, blocking his view of the Gryffindor table. Crabbe and Goyle stood a bit behind her, disgruntled expressions on their faces.

"What do you want?" Draco snarled in irritation.

She studied him, cat-like eyes tracing across his features as her face scrunched up in disapproval.

"I should be asking you the same thing," she replied, her words sounding forced. "What's your silence going to cost us?"

Draco let an easy smile play out on his face, delicately bringing his teacup to his lips to take a sip. When he felt the silence had gone on long enough, he said, "Call off the attack."

She sputtered in surprise, color rising to her cheeks. "You know I don't have the power to influence my father's decisions."

"Hmm..." Draco replied, holding the girl with an icy look. "That's most unfortunate."

She scoffed, her face contorting in an ugly manner. "If Potter hadn't shown up, you wouldn't have a leg to stand on. It would have been your word against ours – and your word isn't worth much these days. It's in your best interest to remember that fact before you start making ridiculous demands."

Draco did not allow the smile to slip from his face. "If that's too difficult for you, then how about something easier? How about you get your snakes in line? Have them keep their fangs away from me until we graduate."

She paused to consider his request, eyes burning with rage at the necessity of this arrangement.

"Fine," she grumbled. "I'll see what I can do, but snakes rarely listen to anyone. I will not be held responsible for the few that refuse to comply, nor will I be held responsible for others outside of my jurisdiction."

It was enough. Draco was careful not to let the relief show on his face.

"I suppose that is acceptable," he replied.

Pansy stood to leave, a look of utter disgust on her face at having to make these concessions. Crabbe and Goyle hung back as she walked away, eyes darting about anxiously.

"I'm sorry about last night," Goyle informed. "We didn't know what they were planning. They told us that they were just going to rough you up a bit. You know how that goes?"

His eyes met Draco's, an earnest expression on his face. "If we had known – we wouldn't have agreed to it."

Crabbe shifted nervously behind him, looking equally mortified.

"Is that all?" Draco inquired, dismissing them without accepting their apology.

They both looked wounded, Goyle nodding before they both darted away to catch up with Pansy.

While he didn't doubt the sincerity of their actions, he wasn't about to let them off so easily. They belonged to Pansy now after all.

Draco needed some fresh air. He finished off the rest of his tea, setting the cup gently in the saucer before heading off for the grounds. Harry caught up with him a few minutes later, huffing with the effort of chasing him down.

"You didn't wait for me," he accused. "Is everything okay? I saw Parkinson talking to you."

Draco smiled, pleased at the memory of the game he had just won. "We've reached an agreement," he replied evasively.

"Are they going to leave you alone now?" Harry asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"For the most part."

Harry smiled, his body visibly relaxing in relief. "That's good."

A few butterflies in Draco's stomach fluttered as he asked, "Fancy going for a walk?"

Harry's face lit up like a six-year-old girl seeing her first real unicorn. "That sounds perfect."

The butterflies had now formed a tornado and Draco worried for a second that he might be sick.

Not wasting any time, Harry took Draco's hand in his and dragged him along. Draco glanced about in worry, looking for witnesses, but there were none. Harry's hand felt warm and rough in his and he smiled at the thought of holding it like this forever.

<<<<<      >>>>>

"Sit there for a second," Draco commanded, pointing at the chair near the fireplace. He pulled out a tube of hand cream his mother had sent him last year and crossed over to kneel in front of Harry.

He squeezed some of the cream into the palm of his hand, taking Harry's hand into his to massage the product in. Harry watched him, saying nothing as he relaxed under Draco's careful ministrations.

"Don't you ever wear gloves during Quidditch?" Draco inquired in irritation, his fingers passing over rough and peeling callouses.

Harry chuckled, his face lighting up in a warm and easy-going expression. "It's not just Quidditch," he remarked. "I do a lot of yard work over the summer break too."

Draco was momentarily distracted by a vision of Harry, shirtless and sweating as he dug a hole. The purpose of said hole was a mystery, but nonetheless, Draco felt a peculiar throbbing sensation in his groin. It was a rather silly thought. He shook his head to clear it, his body protesting his mind's erroneous assessment – it was not a silly thought.

"You should really invest in a good hand cream. A proper skin care regimen will go a long way in the fight against..." he explained carelessly, the rest of his mother's oft-given lecture on the dangers of premature aging freezing in his throat the moment he realized it – Harry had no need to worry about premature aging or proper skin care.

"I'm..." he started to apologize but was halted mid-sentence when Harry placed a finger on his lips, shaking his head with a slight smile.

"Don't apologize. I like discussing the future with you. I need it, actually. Otherwise, I feel like my life is just frozen in time. No movement at all – just waiting – waiting until..." he trailed off, pulling his finger away from Draco's lips with a stricken expression on his face.

Draco leaned forward, his heart aching with regret as he pressed his lips to Harry's, trying to banish the look in the boy's eyes. Harry responded readily, lips parting as the kiss deepened unexpectedly, their tongues at war as sadness transformed into need.

When they finally pulled away, lips swollen and faces flushed, Draco realized that he wanted so much more. It was alarming really, how strange his thoughts had become. He'd never had much interest in anyone – at least not in that way – but Harry's eyes, his mouth, the soft curve of his jaw, even his messy hair, had awakened something unexpected in him. It was torture for him to feel like this.

"You know," Harry said, interrupting Draco's confused thoughts, "I really need to thank you."

Draco stared at him with a questioning look. What had he done for Harry that warranted thanking?

"The other day, when you told me to stop feeling sorry for myself..." Draco winced at hearing his thoughtless words flung back at him. "It really made me stop and think. In fact, I thought about it for most of the following day and I realized that I wanted to live."

It was as if a dagger had been plunged into his heart – hearing Harry profess his want to live while simultaneously knowing that it would mean a continuation of everyone living in fear of the Dark Lord. He knew Harry wouldn't be happy living like that – with all that guilt.

"Not like that," Harry said, chuckling lightly at the look on Draco's face. "I mean, I want to live what little life I have left. I want to enjoy it. I'm tired of moping around, feeling sorry for myself, getting frustrated at how unfair everything is. I want to _live_ – like actually live my life. I want to enjoy it – " he paused, looking momentarily uncertain before he continued. "... enjoy it _with you._ "

Draco's heart was fluttering like a bird trying to escape its cage. He wanted that too – a life together with his first real friend, his first...whatever they were. He lost himself in Harry's spellbinding green eyes, not saying a word. Harry began to frown, shifting a bit to pull away from Draco.

"I mean, if you want that," he mumbled nervously, running his fingers through his hair in a self-conscious gesture.

"YES," Draco shot back abruptly. "Yes, I would like that very much."

They stared at one another, both blushing and uncertain.

"I don't really know how this works," Harry admitted, a nervous smile on his face.

"Me neither," Draco replied breathlessly. "But I suppose the kissing was a good start."

Harry let out an easy laugh, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

"More kissing it is," he announced, smirking as his eyes held Draco's. Harry pulled him close, capturing his lips once again, their tongues exploring each other. This was something he could definitely get used to.

  
  
  



	38. But We Have the Same Equipment!

Bedtime was here at last and for once it wasn't nightmares that were making Harry anxious. They had spent a good portion of the day kissing one another and exploring each other rather cautiously with their hands. Should he go back to his dorm room now before things got weird? Or should he stay and find out what would happen? It was the same level of nervousness that he'd experienced with Cho – wondering what he should say, what he should be doing with his hands or his mouth? He hid all this behind a confident smile; worried that Draco would lose interest in him if he knew how insecure he really was.

"I – uh – should..." Harry stuttered, edging towards the window, suddenly finding himself unable to keep up the act any longer.

Grinning, Draco pulled him close, their noses almost touching. "Just where do you think you're going?" he questioned.

"I just thought..."

"You thought wrong," Draco replied, interrupting him as he pulled him in for another dizzying kiss.

Harry melted into Draco's arms, allowing himself to be pulled into bed without protest. Maybe this wasn't like with Cho after all – everything just felt so right...when he wasn't letting himself get too lost in his own thoughts and doubts.

A nervous tremor ran through him as Draco wrapped his arms around his chest, pressing his body close to him, his breath warm on the back of his neck. Draco moaned ever so softly as he shifted against him. Harry's breathing quickened when he felt a hardness pressing against his backside, his own body responding in a similar fashion.

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest, his thoughts racing. Everything was happening too fast. Because of Seamus, he understood the mechanics of it fairly well. But with a boy? How even with a boy? He'd never had cause to give it much thought. He quickly found that he was no longer aroused, but rapidly entering a state of panic as Draco pressed more urgently against him.

"I'm sorry," he sputtered breathlessly. "I'm not ready for this."

With an irritated growl, Draco pulled away from him. Harry spun around to catch the hurt expression on his face before Draco rolled over without a word. He felt a twinge of guilt at having been such a disappointment.

"I want this," he assured him, hoping to make things right between them. "It's just that – what I mean to say is – I honestly have no idea what I'm doing, and it terrifies me," he admitted.

Draco turned around to fix him with piercing silver-grey eyes. "And you think I have any idea either? I was just doing what felt right."

That pang of guilt transformed into a full-blown blow, twisting his stomach into uncomfortable knots – Draco was just as unsure as he was.

"Well aren't we just a pair," Harry remarked nervously. "You'd think since we both have the same equipment that we'd be better at this."

Draco sighed, an uncertain smile tugging at his lips. "Let's just take things slow then – until we have things figured out."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Slow didn't seem so frightening. He could do slow. He allowed himself to be pulled into another warm embrace; the pressure off now that he knew he wasn't expected to perform.

<<<<<       >>>>>

He kept glancing in Draco's direction during Professor Tonks' lesson, wondering what last night would have been like if he hadn't lost his nerve. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, but he hadn't felt very brave. What if Draco wasn't actually okay with slow?

Draco caught him staring and smiled, sending his heart into a mad flutter of activity. The rest of the lesson went by without his notice as he kept imagining a tangle of limbs and full pink lips trailing kisses down his body. He was squirming in his seat as a flush of heat flooded his body, painting his cheeks red.

As the end of class came, Draco was the first to leave with just the briefest glance in Harry's direction, beckoning him to follow. Harry stood abruptly, intending to catch him in some small dark corner somewhere and relieve some of this pent-up tension.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Tonks called, freezing him in mid-pursuit. "Would you mind staying behind? I would like to have a few words with you."

Harry nodded, resigning himself to giving up on the chase. Ron and Hermione gave him an anxious glance and he smiled to let them know that everything was going to be fine. Having found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Draco, he had honestly forgotten that his friends were in that class too.

When everyone had left, he approached the woman, worried that she was going to ask him why he had seemed so distracted during her lesson. In retrospect he realized that he had been terribly obvious.

"You're looking a lot better," she remarked with an easy smile. "Remus keeps asking about you."

This was not the conversation he had been preparing to have and the room felt suddenly very cold.

"He's been asking you to spy on me?" he questioned frostily.

Her eyes went wide in alarm as she vehemently shook her head.

"That's not how – that's not..." she stammered, looking as if she were drowning. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together.

"I wasn't spying," she proclaimed a bit too loudly. "Remus and I talk about you often. You mean everything to him and he's worried about you. Will you please just send him a letter – let him know that you're doing okay. I've told him you are, but I don't think that's enough."

Harry felt a familiar twinge of guilt at the thought of his former professor. Maybe it was about time that he stopped torturing the man with his silence. Or maybe not.

"I'll think about it," he begrudgingly replied, turning to leave before she could pester him further.

Once out of sight, he pulled out the Marauder's Map, desperately needing to be with Draco. A quick once over revealed that the boy had made it all the way to the third floor. By his positioning, it was clear that he was posted up in Harry's favorite window ledge. With a smile, Harry quickly put the map away and took off.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco stared out at the grounds, brooding. Harry had been making eyes at him throughout the entirety of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but when he had left, certain that the boy would pursue, he was disappointed to realize that Harry hadn't. It was frustrating to him how wishy-washy Harry seemed. Every time things were going so right, he would pull back and put distance between them. Was Harry having second thoughts about wanting to be with him?

He heard loud footsteps echoing down the hall before the raven-haired boy cleared the distance, breathless and shaking with the exertion.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "Professor Tonks wanted to speak with me."

"So that's where you were," Draco replied, letting relief wash over him.

He paused, his brow drawing together in confusion as he asked, "How did you find me so quickly?"

Harry gave him a dazzling smile as he reached into his robes to pull out a folded bit of paper. "With this," he announced, waving it in front of Draco's face. "It's called the Marauder's Map. Fred and George gave it to me."

Curiosity piqued, he leaned closer to inspect it. Anything that once belonged to the Weasley twins had to be good.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry intoned, tapping his wand against the blank face of it. Before his very eyes, ink began to spread, taking on the shape of the castle and naming its multitudinous inhabitants.

"That's how you're always finding me," Draco whispered, eyes open wide in wonder. If he'd had something like this... He shook his head, banishing the thousand evil plots that had sprung to mind. That wasn't who he was anymore; he didn't need to play that game.

"Cool, right?" Harry asked, a gleeful smile on his face. "My dad and his friends made it."

Draco felt a sudden swelling of respect for his godfather's old childhood enemies. This map would have been no easy feat.

"Can I?" he asked, holding out his hands to further inspect it.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry had handed it over, pulling up next to him to watch what he had planned.

He scanned the corridors and names quickly, his brain filtering out all the unnecessary information until it froze – stuck on a grouping of names that made his blood run cold. Pansy, Nott, and...

"Luna's in trouble," he whispered ominously, his heart hammering in his chest. "We have to go."

Harry was hot on his heels as he ran, his lungs burning as he pushed himself past his limit. The jar of healing salve – he should have realized it – Draco wasn't the only one Pansy's snakes were stalking.

He came to a halt when he heard a familiar voice.

"Tell your father to stop printing all that trash in his shitty magazine," Pansy hissed threateningly.

Nott held the girl in his arms, blood trickling from the corner of her lip, the side of her face rosy where it was obvious she had been slapped.

"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" Draco roared, his blood rushing noisily in his ears as adrenaline shot through his veins.

Pansy spun about in surprise, her eyes going wide at the sight of not just Draco, but Harry approaching in the distance. Her face contorted into a disapproving grimace as she brought her eyes back to Draco.

"This wasn't part of our agreement," she warned.

"Well now it is," he countered defiantly. Harry pulled up beside him, his wand drawn.

The blood drained from Pansy's face and even Nott began to shift uncomfortably. He and Harry must have made a rather threatening pair to have evoked such a response. It made him feel giddy with power – invincible even.

"You'll regret this," she hissed, nodding to her companion as she stalked away. Nott shoved the girl roughly to the ground and jogged a bit to catch up with Pansy.

"Thank you for that," Luna said in a breathless whisper, standing to dust herself off and check for damage.

"How long have they been harassing you?" Harry question, a fierceness in his eyes that sent a shiver down Draco's spine.

"Not for very long," she replied in an airy voice. "I've managed to avoid them most of the time. I was just a bit distracted today, what with it being a full moon tonight."

Draco and Harry exchanged quizzical looks, wondering what a full moon had to do with anything.

"That's when the rare Lenticular Tentacula flowers bloom," she explained. "I was thinking it might be rather nice if I had the chance to see them – no one I know has before."

Draco couldn't help but wonder if she was all there. He knew everything about flowers and had never heard of a Lenticular Tentacula. He was about to let her know as much, but a quick shake of the head from Harry made him drop the subject.

"Oh," he muttered, feeling flustered.

"Do let me know if you see any tonight," she requested before wandering away as if lost in a dream.

Draco rounded on Harry when she was out of sight. "Why are your friends so fucking weird?" he demanded playfully.

Harry let out a deep-throated laugh that echoed down the hall before suddenly growing serious.

"I don't know, but tell me this – why are your friends so fucking evil?"

"They're not my friends," Draco grumbled, offended at the very notion of it.

"They used to be," he reminded.

The mood had gotten very tense. Draco suddenly found himself worried that Harry would hold his previous choice in companions against him. He was caught completely off guard when Harry shoved him roughly against the wall, crushing him with the weight of his body as he savagely attacked his mouth, his hands dropping to his hips. He pulled away; a hungry look in his eyes.

"I don't know why," he whispered breathlessly, "but rescuing Luna, seeing you stand up to Pansy like that – I just can't help myself – I don't think I've ever needed someone so badly in my life."

Draco felt himself growing hard, adrenaline still raging through his system. He burned with the need to have Harry's lips on him once more. It was a need so strong that it was almost painful.

"Please," he panted, his eyes locked on emerald-green ones.

All semblance of restraint seemed to dissolve in Harry as he pressed his body and lips against him once more. He felt like he was being consumed. His pants grew uncomfortably tight, straining against him. Harry seemed to take notice. He rubbed himself against him, moaning as they made delicious contact with one another. His whole body was on fire now and he felt like he would die if he didn't find release – and soon.

"Harry, please," he moaned against the top of the boy's head as Harry trailed kisses down his neck. Each kiss sent a spark of electricity down him, adding to the fire that was already burning inside.

Harry bit down on his shoulder, his hips grinding against him. The shock of it sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He knew he was so close now, delicious friction wearing down the barrier between sanity and madness.

"Oh, Draco," Harry whispered in a husky voice, shattering his senses with the way in which Harry had said his name. He felt himself pulsing in release, a warm feeling spreading across his thighs, lights dancing across his vision.

He pulled Harry against him as he trembled, digging his fingers into his shoulders to hold himself upright. Harry moaned loudly, hips twitching against him as he came, slight tremors running up and down his body.

They hadn't even done anything, but that was enough to send them both over the edge. Draco was left in amazement at the thought of what it would feel like when they finally got more involved.

"I know the perfect place to get cleaned up," Harry whispered, a few tremors still working their way through him.

Draco could only nod, allowing himself to be led to what he quickly realized was the Prefect's bathroom.


	39. Rubber Ducky, You're the One

Realizing where they were headed, Draco had taken the lead, pulling Harry along behind him as the adrenaline and lust slowly faded from their system. Once inside, Draco locked the door and started the bath, turning on a series of faucets in a practiced manner. It was Draco's flowery scent filling the air – Lily of the Valley. Harry felt himself relaxing as the room steamed up, surrounding him with the pleasant aroma.

"Well?" Draco beckoned expectantly, peeling off his clothes to reveal lily-white flesh and indicating that Harry should do the same.

A jolt of nervousness ran through him as he gazed at Draco's perfect body, his finely toned muscles, his deliciously sharp angles. He felt suddenly self-conscious, knowing his scrawny form was nothing in comparison to Draco's. What if the boy didn't like what he saw? He turned away, spelling his glasses against fogging up before fumbling with his clothing, his hands shaking. Once free of his clothes, he darted across the room, avoiding Draco's eyes as he quickly entered the bath. He disappeared under the bubbles, sinking to just below his nose to hide his body from Draco's view.

Draco cocked his head to the side in confusion, elegantly stepping into the bath, small ripples fleeing in his wake as he crossed over in Harry's direction.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his brow drawn tight in concern in response to Harry's strange behavior.

"Nothing," Harry grumbled, lifting his head out of the water just high enough to speak before sinking back down.

Draco closed the slight distance between them, clasping his warm hands behind the small of Harry's back to pull him up to eye level, bubbles shifting away from them at the sudden movement.

"It's not nothing," he said, studying Harry's face as he ran his hands over the wet skin of Harry's back. "Something is bothering you."

Harry felt his cheeks flush, his eyes darting away as he spoke.

"You're just so – perfect," he explained. "And I'm..."

"Harry Fucking Potter," Draco interrupted, a reproachful bite to his voice.

"I'm just..." he attempted again before being cut off.

"No, we're not having this discussion," Draco snapped, an angry scowl on his face. "You're Harry Fucking Potter and I'm the trash you fell in love with – end of story."

"You're not trash," Harry protested, taking offense at the notion that Draco thought that of himself.

A sly smile spread across Draco's face, his voice sounding silky smooth. "So you do love me then?"

"I – what?" Harry squeaked as his heart skipped a beat, wondering how this conversation had gone left and why Draco was smiling at him like he had just won a big prize.

"You took offense at me calling myself trash, but said nothing when I claimed you loved me," Draco explained in a self-congratulatory manner.

"You tricked me," Harry accused, but a slow smile was spreading across his face, his body relaxing in Draco's arms as his worry drained away at their familiar banter.

"Never trust a Slytherin," Draco replied, flashing him a devious smile, his eyes sparkling dangerously. "We're sneaky like that."

Harry was contemplating where they went from here when his thoughts were interrupted.

"It's time for me to give you a good washing," Draco whispered, a predatory look in his eyes. "We've made quite a mess of ourselves today."

Harry couldn't find his voice, he could only nod. His heart started to beat a wild staccato as Draco began to worship his body, his hands gliding across every inch of him in a loving manner. His trembling body exploding into life, each gentle stroke firing off a wave of pleasure that went swirling and consolidating into his rapidly hardening penis.

Noticing the effect he was having, Draco let his ministrations stray further down, ghosting over Harry's length with incredibly soft hands.

"I need to..." Draco panted in arousal, gripping Harry more firmly as he stroked, "...make sure I clean you really good here."

Harry moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as fire coursed through his veins. The warmth, the firm grip, the lusty look in Draco's eyes - he was rapidly coming undone. His hips thrust against Draco's hand, demanding more of that delicious friction.

He opened his eyes to gaze at Draco's God-like form, wondering about the boy's own needs. Unsure of himself, he tentatively reached out, his fingers gliding over Draco's hardened length. It was a new sensation, touching someone else in that way, but the shape of it felt familiar to his hands. He brushed his fingers delicately across the head, cupping the underside of Draco's shaft in his palm before slowly working his hands across taut and straining flesh. Draco bucked against him, groaning loudly. His grip on Harry tightened almost painfully.

They began stroking in time, lost in synchronous movement as they approached their crescendo. Harry was finding it harder and harder to maintain focus, his brain humming in ecstatic agony as his breath quickened, his body pulsing in unending waves of pleasure.

"Do you love me, Harry?" Draco whispered unexpectedly in his ear. He didn't even have to think about it – it was obvious. His heart was joyously singing the answer as he came crashing down the other side, shuddering in the now choppy waters as he came.

"Forever," he gasped in answer to Draco's question, a few tremors making his grip on Draco feel sloppy. Even still, Draco bucked against him, the words that Harry had spoken tipping him over the edge with a keening cry. Harry pulled back a bit to marvel at the blissful expression on Draco's face as he found his release. Seeing this forever – that was something he could really get used to.

However long forever was.

<<<<<    >>>>>

"Three days!" Ron exclaimed in frustration as he threw himself onto the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. "He hasn't slept in his own bed in three days."

Hermione smiled at her boyfriend, marveling at the way he sprawled haphazardly across the cushions like a cat lounging in the sun, his muscles rippling pleasantly under his shirt.

"We hardly see him anymore," he grumbled, continuing his rant. "With meals and class, as soon as he's done, he's gone with only a few words spoken between us."

He fixed Hermione with an alarmed expression, eyes widening in horror as he straightened into a sitting position. "You don't think he might be under the influence of some sort of potion or spell?" he cried.

Hermione snorted in derision, finding herself a bit exasperated by how dense he was being.

"Seriously Ron, isn't it obvious?" she mocked incredulously.

"What's obvious?" he sputtered in surprise, his face twisting up in a perplexed expression.

"Harry's in love," she explained. "The signs are all there."

"But," Ron exclaimed in shock, "I've never seen him to talking to her."

Now it was Hermione's turn to be perplexed. Who could he be referring to when he said 'her'?

"I mean, I didn't really believe it when Dean and Seamus were discussing it, but..." he trailed off, his face contorting as if the act of thinking was causing him physical pain.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Hermione demanded, feeling like she had missed something important in this conversation.

"I'm talking about Daphne Greengrass – she's always ogling him. Dean and Seamus speculated that Malfoy was acting as an intermediary between the two since she's in Slytherin and that would make things difficult. I didn't want to believe it, but it explains why Harry's gotten so chummy with Malfoy lately. The guys think that Harry's been shacking up with her in the Room of Requirements. I mean, it's not like I can check if it's true or not seeing as how Harry very conveniently took the Marauder's Map from us."

"Daphne!" Hermione shrieked, dissolving into a fit of laughter. "You think Harry's in love with Daphne?"

Ron frowned at being mocked, his bottom lip sticking out with just the slightest bit of a pout as she continued to howl in laughter at him.

"Then who?" he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest with a petulant expression on his face.

Breathless, she composed herself, gripping the stitch in her side, amazed at how dense boys could be. The girls had already figured it out. While Daphne was frequently sitting near Malfoy, Harry's eyes were not on her, they were never on her, they were always on Malfoy.

"Just stop and think about it for a while," she huffed. "I'm sure it will come to you...eventually."

Ron harrumphed, throwing himself back onto the couch in order to glare sullenly at the ceiling.


	40. We Can't Always Get What We Want

Noticing Benson had arrived with the day's letters, Lucius Malfoy acknowledged his presence at the study door with a curt nod.

"Your mail, My Lord," he announced with a slight bow before crossing the room to hand it over.

Malfoy sifted through various scrolls and letters, deciding that none of them warranted his immediate attention before carelessly tossing them aside. There were more important matters to attend to at the moment. With a calculating look, he fixed his eyes upon Benson.

"What have you discovered?" Lucius questioned, knowing that the servants were always gossiping amongst themselves at the parties he frequented. If you wanted to know what was really going on in the world, it was always best to ask them. Benson was a rather sharp fellow and had served the Malfoys for going on 30 years. His information was always spot on and insightful.

"The rumors from last night were that Lord Nott and Lord Parkinson were readying themselves to announce an engagement between their two eldest children. This has certainly ruffled a few feathers as it places a lot of power in the hands of the young couple-to-be. Sensing the changing winds, Lord Crabbe and Lord Goyle have begun cozying up to the Parkinson family. Begging your pardon, My Lord, but this was a very smart move on their part. It hurts our position considerably."

Lucius frowned at this disconcerting turn of events. They couldn't afford to lose any more allies right now. It was imperative that he ascertain his position with the other houses and work towards shoring up weakening allegiances. He'd always taken Crabbe and Goyle for granted and that was a mistake that he would now suffer for.

"What about Greengrass?" he inquired, his eyebrow arching up in an elegant manner.

"He's been unnaturally quiet lately," Benson replied, shifting nervously at having to make these difficult observations. "I questioned his servants and they are of the opinion that he is biding his time before he takes a side. His support would be a deciding factor in who triumphs, and he is weighing his options very carefully."

Lucius paused to consider this new information. He and Greengrass had never been particularly close, but their wives had been at one point in time. Maybe it would be a good idea to bring her into play here. She was an excellent conversationalist when she wanted to be, and her beauty turned the heads of many.

"Please fetch my wife," Lucius commanded. "I would like to have a word with her."

"Right away, My Lord," Benson replied with a low bow before letting himself out.

<<<<<    >>>>>

"You wanted to see me?" Harry asked, his voice full of trepidation as he entered her tiny office.

Minerva let out a long sigh, studying her student with a worried expression. She had tried being strict with him, hoping that the higher standards would force the boy to comply with the rules and keep him out of trouble. It was partially motivated by the tragic events that had occurred in the Department of Mysteries last year and partially motivated by her own sense of failure. She needed to feel like she had some control over her students and their actions. That plan had failed miserably as it only caused the boy to shy away from her.

"Yes, please have a seat," she replied, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. She was careful to keep her voice soft and sympathetic so that he wouldn't shut her out. "I wanted to talk to you about your recent absences. Mrs. Granger informed me that you were taking a mental health break and it was a cause for concern. Is everything all right?"

He shifted a bit in his chair, a slight blush creeping across his downturned face.

"I've just been having some bad dreams," he replied, the blush growing more pronounced. "But you don't have to worry; someone is already helping me with them."

"I see," she commented, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, but she knew him well enough to know he didn't plan on elaborating. Whatever he had been doing during his mental health break seemed to have helped; he looked significantly better than he had last week. There was a glow about him now.

"While I do not approve of you missing classes, I will let this slide for now. I made a promise to you last year that I would help you score high enough on your N.E.W.T.S to qualify as an Auror. I intend to keep that promise, so you better stop slacking off in my class. Your performance this year has been quite lackluster and you..." her lecture trailed off as she noticed his suddenly darkening mood. It was as if the whole room had dropped twenty degrees in an instant.

"You still intend on becoming an Auror?" she questioned, her voice quivering slightly in a way that irritated her.

He looked up at her briefly, a powerful swirl of emotions playing out across his features. Then, he forced it all down, pasting an obviously fake smile on his face, his voice sounding unnatural as he spoke.

"Of course, Professor. It's the career I chose, isn't it?"

There was a note of bitterness in his voice. Something cold and dark was gripping her frantically beating heart. She didn't know why, but it felt as if she were conversing with the damned.

"Are you sure you're doing okay?" she asked tremulously.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, smiling brightly – too brightly.

"If there's anything I should..." she started, but he abruptly cut her off.

"Truly, I'm fine," he insisted.

They stared at one another, each trying to decipher the other's thoughts. This conversation was going nowhere. He had completely shut down now.

"Just stay out of trouble," she pleaded, giving up on getting anything more out of him.

"I'll try," he replied, which wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

<<<<<  >>>>>

Draco was studying him closely, a look on his face as if someone had offered him a cookie and it turned out to be oatmeal raisin instead of chocolate chip. He couldn't blame him really. He had left their make-out session positively radiant and had returned sullen and moody. If the roles were reversed, he'd be irritated too.

"What did the old bat have to say?" Draco questioned testily.

Harry tensed at the phrasing, feeling the urge to defend the woman in her absence, but decided that it was better to choose his battles carefully.

"She wanted to discuss my recent absences," Harry grumbled unhappily.

"That doesn't seem like it would be something to put you in such a mood," Draco countered, his eyebrow raised questioningly, clearly waiting for Harry to elaborate.

Harry let out a rather noisy sigh, his eyes meeting Draco's as he worked up the courage to continue.

"We started discussing my career choice," he explained, an edge of bitterness creeping into his voice as he remembered the meeting.

He closed his eyes against the suffocating feeling of his fate pressing in on all sides. He'd kept his calm with Professor McGonagall, but he just couldn't hold it together any longer. To have all sense of purpose in his studies snatched away was painful to him. He had been struggling to see the point of it all.

"Sometimes I really just hate everyone," he admitted. "Watching them all working towards a future that I won't be a part of; it makes me want to scream."

"Then scream," Draco encouraged, closing the distance between them to place his hands on Harry's shoulders, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Who cares what they think? Half of them probably think you're mad anyway."

A rueful smile spread across his face at Draco's suggestion. He could almost picture the looks on their faces as he went off on them during Transfiguration. It might almost be worth it. He noticed that Draco had started smiling too.

"You want to hear an interesting rumor?" Draco asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth as the conversation was entering more familiar territory. He moved his hands down to the small of Harry's back.

"Sure," Harry replied, allowing the boy to pull him closer.

"The rumor is that you, me, and Daphne Greengrass are involved in some sort of love triangle. Apparently, we've been shacking up in the Room of Requirements," Draco snorted, struggling not to dissolve into a fit of laughter. "I'm sure this rumor is Pansy's doing, but I still find it quite entertaining. I suppose she is hoping to force their hands and make the Greengrass' choose a side – preferably her side. I just don't see how it will work though."

Once again, Harry was dumbstruck at the things people would believe. He doubted if he had ever said more than two words to the girl, but yet here they were, with people claiming that something untoward was afoot.

"Well, Daphne does nothing for me," Harry replied, a smirk spreading across his face. "I do kind of like the idea of shacking up in the Room of Requirements though. We should definitely add that to the bucket list...just not with her...never her," he added with a shudder.

Draco leaned in close, a hungry look in his eyes that made Harry's body respond in pleasant and needy ways.

"I'll have to take you up on that offer," he whispered seductively, his breath warm on Harry's face. "How does tonight sound?"

Harry swallowed, his heart thundering in his chest as he spoke in a pitchy voice. "I think I like that idea."


	41. On Earth As It Is in Heaven

Harry strode quickly towards the entrance of the Room of Requirements, like a supplicant responding to the call to prayer. Draco watched him closely as he approached, marveling at the hungry feeling settling inside him. When he was close enough, Draco pulled him into his arms in a needy embrace, their mouths warring for dominance in a passionate kiss. He opened the door, backing himself into the room and pulling Harry along with him as he closed the door.

Desiring to feel closer to one another, they began frantically undressing. He watched as Harry fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finding himself responding to Harry's urgency, his own trembling hands working the fastenings of his pants so that he could free himself.

Once they were free of their clothing, Harry worshipped his body, raining down rough and needy kisses upon his eager flesh. Draco basked in the glorious attention, his mind ceasing to function as each press of Harry's lips fired off a spark of pleasure which exploded within him.

"Don't stop," he pleaded when Harry paused just below his navel. Without warning, Harry dropped to his knees as if in prayer, Draco's body the altar and Harry's hands and mouth the offering. He gently grasped his cock, flicking his tongue across the weeping tip experimentally. A slight tremor ran through Draco, his hips twitching, his fingers lacing through Harry's messy hair to steady himself. The warmth of Harry's mouth enveloped him as he took him further in, sending a shock of pure ecstasy tingling throughout his body.

Harry looked up at him with eager eyes, watching Draco intently for signs that he was doing the right things. He slid Draco's cock out of his mouth a bit, stopping to swirl his tongue around the head. Draco let out a moan, his grip on Harry's hair tightening as he fought the urge to slam into the boy's mouth.

One hand still on Draco's cock, Harry reached down with the other and began stroking himself in time with the bobbing of his head. The vision of Harry, bathing him in warmth with his tongue, his eyes darkening with lust, his hand tugging at himself – it was maddening. He kept forgetting how to breathe.

Harry paused to shudder, groaning deep in his throat as he spilled his offering on the ground at Draco's feet. The vibrations from that groan around Draco's cock shot through him, a flash of blinding color playing out across his vision as he involuntary thrust into Harry's surprised mouth, exploding into that warm abyss with a rapturous cry.

His trembling knees gave out on him and he fell to his knees to stare face to face into emerald green eyes. Harry was smiling at him in blissful satisfaction, a bit of Draco's cum dribbling down his chin which he lapped up with his bright pink tongue.

"Warn a person next time," he admonished in a breathy whisper.

Draco could only chuckle weakly in response.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco's mind kept wandering back to last night in the Room of Requirements, his pants tightening around him as remembered the wonderful sensation of being so close to Harry. He wanted more though. He knew he wanted more, but he found himself decidedly lacking on the how of what he wanted to do. It wasn't like he could just go check out a book in the library on gay sex. As much as his stomach turned at the very idea of it, he knew he'd need to ask someone about it.

He caught sight of Harry watching him as he placed a forkful of eggs in his mouth. They smiled at one another, his heart giving a happy flutter, then glanced quickly away before anyone noticed.

A warm chuckle a few seats down caught his attention. Blaise had a playful smile on his face as he leaned in close to the fifth-year boy sitting next to him, their shoulders practically touching while they teased one another. He'd heard rumors, but maybe, just maybe, Blaise was the person he needed to talk to about his little predicament. Unlike the rest of the Slytherins, Blaise had continued to treat Draco the same as before. He was always the type of person who made his own path in life and didn't put much stock in what was normal and acceptable. It was a quality that had endeared him to many people.

Blaise stood to leave, his hand lingering just a bit too long on the other boy's arms. He pulled in close to whisper in the boy's ear, a blush appearing on his face as he took in Blaise's words.

Draco glanced in Harry's direction, giving him a meaningful shake of his head, hoping that he understood that he didn't want to be followed. Harry nodded, a look of curiosity on his face.

Blaise was almost at the door to the Great Hall now. Draco hurried after him, hoping to catch him while he was still alone. Once out in the hall, he shouted his name. Blaise spun around, his brows drawn tight in confusion. "Draco?" he questioned, clearly surprised to see him.

Draco closed the distance between them, a blush creeping into his face, his stomach tightening at the thought of what he was about to ask the boy.

"I need your help," Draco explained. "You've  _been with_..." he swallowed nervously, "...other boys before, haven't you?"

Blaise looked as if he been struck by lightning, his eyes wide in surprise, his mouth making a small 'o' as he realized what Draco was alluding to.

Draco couldn't look at him directly any longer, his face burning as he pressed on.

"I was hoping you could...that you might...," he stammered, trailing off as he floundered for the right words before just forcing out the question. "How does it work?"

Blaise let out an amused chuckle as he appraised him. "The great Draco Malfoy asking me for sexual advice, gay sexual advice no less? I never thought I'd see the day. So, who's the lucky boy?"

"It's no one you would know," Draco replied, schooling his features into a neutral expression.

Blaise scoffed. "I find that highly unlikely. I know all the asses worth having in this castle," he informed with a smug look on his face. "But let me guess – messy raven-colored hair, green eyes, glasses, and a scar on his forehead?"

Draco balked at the accusation, his mask slipping just long enough for a satisfied smile to appear on Blaise's face.

"Sure, I'll help you take Potter's virginity," he announced. "Sounds like a fun little project. As payment, I expect all the juicy details."

Draco was certain his face couldn't get any redder as he nodded his acceptance of the terms. Blaise gestured for him to follow and they made their way to the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room. Draco paused at the threshold, a sudden feeling of apprehension rearing its ugly head. He hadn't been through here in weeks. He had to remind himself that Pansy had called a truce and he was free to come and go as he pleased without fear of being harassed. He took control of himself and took a step forward, following Blaise through the Common Room and up to Blaise's dorm room.

"It should be here somewhere," he grumbled while digging through his trunk. "Or maybe..." he started rifling through a stack of paperwork and books on his desk. "Ah-hah!" he announced, holding up a thin and battered looking book. The cover was rather non-descript with no markings to indicate what it was about.

"This will tell you everything you need to know. I'll let you borrow it, but I expect to have it back," he explained, holding it out to him.

Draco accepted it with a quick thanks, flipping through a few pages to see what it was inside. His eyes went wide at the sight of various pictures and diagrams. This was some sort of primer on the ins and outs of gay sex and it was shockingly detailed.

"Oh," Blaise exclaimed suddenly before pulling out a tube of something from his trunk and handing it to him. "You'll be needing this as well. It'll make sense when you get to that part."

Flustered and a little unsure of himself, he gave Blaise another quick thanks before retreating to his dorm room to splash cold water on his face. His mind kept getting stuck on the fact that he now had a manual to explain what he wanted to do to Harry – a  ** _very_**  detailed manual.


	42. Like A Virgin

His first time back at Quidditch practice was a nightmare. Winter and spring seemed to be at war with one another, flinging bitter winds and rain in all directions. It wasn't long before they all were soaked through and miserable. After much grumbling from the team, Katie eventually gave up and called it quits.

The field had turned muddy and when he landed, his shoes sank several inches, filling with muck. He signed, sloshing across the field with only one thought in mind - how much he wanted to take a shower.

The water from the shower was warm and relaxing, easing tense muscles, soothing away the bit of a headache that had started up. He stayed like that for a long time just letting his mind drift aimlessly until it arrived on the memory of Draco, standing there naked in all his radiant glory. He felt himself hardening in response. He immediately shut off the water and dressed quickly; rushing to get back to Draco.

When he arrived, the room was empty and he felt a flash of fear until his eyes landed on a note in Draco's swirling handwriting waiting for him on the bed.

_As soon as you're done, meet me in the Room of Requirements - DM_

A slow smile tugged at his lips, his heart fluttering in excitement at the memory of last night's little adventure as he rushed to meet him.

He was attacked the moment he opened the door; Draco's needy kiss stealing the very breath from his lungs as he was slammed against the closing door. Harry fought back with his tongue, his fingers gripping blond hair at the back his head. They broke away, breathless and dazed.

"I take it you missed me," Harry remarked, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Just shut up and take off your clothes," Draco grumbled. "There's something..." he paused, a blush coloring his pale face, "...something I want to try."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. They both began frantically removing clothing, unable to keep their hands off one another as they made their way to the bed. Draco shoved him down, pouncing the very second his head hit the covers, his mouth caressing every inch of his trembling body, lighting him up like fireworks exploding under his skin.

Draco trailed kisses up his chest and finished with a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He pulled away, his eyes intense as they met Harry's.

"I want..." he began, pausing once more and looking very unsure of himself. His expression made Harry burn with need. "I want to be inside you."

Harry's stomach flip-flopped, his emotions a mix of excitement and fear. He wasn't really sure what he wanted. He'd never done anything like that before and didn't know what to expect. "Okay," he whispered uncertainly.

Draco smiled at him as if he had just received the best present in the world.

He trailed kisses back down Harry's chest, nipping at him gently on occasion, his skin tingling all over again. Draco grabbed hold of Harry's thighs, parting his legs to give him better access. His kisses continued along Harry's cock, stopping at the tip where he swirled his tongue around before taking him completely into the warmth of his mouth. Fire coursed through Harry's body, burning him from clenching fingertips to curling toes. He closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the feeling.

One of Draco's fingers teased at his entrance and he jumped a bit in surprise. Draco stopped, his mouth leaving Harry's cock as he lifted his head to look up at Harry in concern.

"We don't have to do this if you're not ready," he offered, but there was a desperate note to his voice that made it clear he wanted to continue.

Harry shook his head, forcing down his nerves. "Just surprised me a bit is all," he panted.

Draco's warm mouth eagerly returned, a finger once again gently probing at his entrance. It pushed past the tight ring of muscles. He felt a tingle of magic as the slick substance on Draco's fingers warmed up his insides and relaxed his muscles. It swirled and moved inside him both pleasant and awkward feeling until a second finger joined the first, stretching and spreading. He tried to concentrate on the warm mouth running up and down his cock, ignoring the invasion that was occurring so that he could relax. A third finger was added to the mix, all three plunging deep inside him until he felt an explosion of pleasure tear through him. His hips bucked, causing Draco to almost choke on his cock. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as pinpricks of light faded from his vision.

Draco looked down at him with a smug expression on his face, removing his fingers and positioning himself at Harry's entrance. Harry gripped the sheets, eyes closed, impatience building as Draco teased at his entrance. He wanted to feel  _that_  again.

With a throaty moan, Draco trembled as he slowly pushed into him. Harry let out the breath he had been holding, relaxing against the intrusion as Draco buried himself inch by agonizing inch. He paused as they both acclimated to the feeling, but Harry desperately wanted him to move, to brush against that spot deep inside that drove him wild. He wiggled his hip a bit, gazing at Draco with a pleading look in his eyes.

Draco pulled out slowly with a shudder, his eyes closing against the feeling. "Oh, Harry," he moaned as he plunged back in. "You're so...so..." he trailed off incoherently.

Harry lifted his hips, guiding Draco to that sweet spot, his back arching as white-hot pleasure shot through him again and again with every thrust.

Nothing in his life compared to this. He opened up to Draco, allowing him to fill him, riding waves of pleasure together. It was agony and ecstasy.

His balls tightened, preparing for release. He was so close and when Draco's warm hands surrounded his cock, there was no turning back. He opened himself up to the flood of release, his cock pulsing as he spilled himself out in Draco's hands.

Anger suddenly seized him, a slithery feeling invading his body, cold red eyes burning through his mind, filling him with terror and confusion. His head felt as if it were being torn in two, so painful that he could only gasp against it unable even to scream. He lost himself to the agony of it for what seemed an eternity.

Reality came crashing down around him like cold water as Draco moaned his release. The blond collapsed, panting against him while Harry struggled to remember how to breathe, shuddering against the violation of his mind. At last, he pulled a ragged, gasping breath as if his head had just broken above water.

Draco pulled away in surprise.

"Harry?" he asked in concern. "What's wrong."

"He knows," Harry whispered, trembling in fear. "Voldemort – he knows about us."

Draco took a sharp intake of breath, horrified comprehension marring his beautiful face.


	43. Another Shooting Star

Draco was sinking further into murky water, his pale blond head swallowed up by the darkness. No matter how frantically Harry swam to reach him, the distance between them kept increasing. His lungs were protesting, begging him to take a breath, his vision growing dark, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated. Despite how much his tired body fought against him, he knew he couldn't stop, he had to keep pushing forward, had to save Draco.

He woke with a start, chest heaving as he took in as much air as he could manage. He turned to his side, needing the reassurance of Draco's warm body in his arms, but the space next to him was cold and empty. Dread trickled down his spine. He put his glasses on and scanned the room, panic nipping at his insides when he realized he was alone.

The Marauder's Map showed that Draco sitting atop the roof of the West Tower. Harry was torn - he wanted the comfort of Draco's strong arms, but it was clear that Draco needed his space. The fallout from the night before had hit them both hard. Draco seemed terrified to even look at him. They slept, not snuggled up in each other's arms, but with an awkward amount of distance between them. It was driving Harry insane.

His face took on a determined expression as he finally made up his mind. It was time that he confronted Draco and they got everything out in the open. With broom in hand, he made his way to the West Tower.

Despite his tear-soaked face and disheveled hair, Draco looked startlingly beautiful in the moonlight. Harry felt an ache in his heart as he approached. When Draco caught sight of him, he quickly wiped the tears from his face and cleared his throat so that his voice would come out steady.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, wounding Harry to the very core of his being. They were back to this, to not even being friends.

Harry landed on the roof and took a tentative step towards the boy. "I had a bad dream...and you were gone."

Draco studied him with mistrustful eyes. "I can't do this," he whispered.

Harry felt hot tears prick his eyes, his heart bleeding out in his chest as he began to sob. "Please," he begged. "I won't let it happen again. I'll keep better control of myself."

Draco had resumed crying, shaking his head against Harry's words. "It's not that," he cried. "It's - it's - everything just got so real. The connection - the prophecy - everything. I can't deal with it right now. I need some space."

With every fiber of his being, he desperately wanted to hold and be held by Draco. Nothing in his life had hurt worse than having to resist that urge.

"Okay," he whispered in defeat.

He stepped off the roof, the rush of cold night air making him grow comfortably numb as he plummeted, straddling his broom at the last possible second before taking off across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest. He flew in low over the treetops, screaming his agony into the howling winds, tears burning across his face.

His scar prickled and then exploded with pain which tore through him, his mind reeling and uncomprehending, his vision obscured. He crashed into a tree, the impact causing him to fall off his broom and plummet into the forest below, striking several branches on his way down. He was only vaguely aware, lost in the vision that Voldemort wished him to see.

Lucius Malfoy was writhing in pain on the floor, his shoulder very obviously dislocated.

"Your son is sleeping with the enemy," he hissed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Narcissa cried out, "Please, stop this! He's not our son anymore."

He backhanded her, sending her sprawling across the cobblestone. "Stay out of this you wretched woman," he snarled. "I'll deal with you in a minute."

He released the spell on Lucius, waiting impatiently for the man to collect himself and provide him with an answer. Lucius pushed himself up into a sitting position, spitting blood out of his mouth with a distasteful expression on his face.

"It is as my wife has said," Lucius stated, his voice slightly breathy from the pain. "We discovered his unnatural perversion and disowned him. You may do with him as you see fit."

Narcissa gave a terrified little squeak, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry struck solid ground, reality slamming into him as his head swam, lost to the pain he felt throughout his body. He tried to assess the damage, but his thoughts were wandering and incoherent. The stars above him were disappearing into blackness as he lost consciousness.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry was not at breakfast the next morning. Draco wasn't too terribly surprised by his absence. It made sense that Harry would be avoiding him. He had caused the boy a great deal of pain.

When lunch time came and Harry still hadn't appeared, he started to feel a bit guilty. He didn't want Harry gone from his life, he just needed to come to terms with everything. It was hard to look at him knowing their relationship was doomed to heartache. No amount of love could make that reality any less painful.

Granger boldly sat herself down in front of him, surprising several of the Slytherins, himself included. He squirmed a bit under the intensity of her stare.

"Where are you keeping him?" she questioned darkly.

Draco was thrown off guard by that question, his heart skipping a beat in his surprise. He had been certain that the first thing Harry would have done would be to return to his friends for comfort. If he wasn't with them, then where?

"I'm not keeping him anywhere," he snarled back, but he was growing slightly fearful now, his heart fluttering a bit at the ramifications of her statement.

They glared at one another for a while before Granger stood and stormed back to the Gryffindor table to have a very animated conversation with her boyfriend.

A slow trickle of dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach as he tried to remember everything he could about last night. Harry had stepped off the roof, free-falling like some crazed adrenaline junkie before taking off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Draco had assumed that he needed to burn off some steam, but what if something had happened? What if he never made it back?

Draco found he wasn't very hungry anymore. He tore through the castle and its grounds, searching out all of Harry's usual haunting grounds, hoping the boy was lurking somewhere safe, but Harry was nowhere to be found. There was no use in avoiding the truth any longer; Harry had to be somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Why was it always that damned forest?

He couldn't very well go looking for the boy on his own; he didn't even know where to start. It seemed inevitable that he would have to ask for help, he just resented the fact that it had to be  _his_  help. Professor Hagrid and his slobbering mutt were always the ones to find students who had got themselves lost in the Forbidden Forest. For Harry's sake and to quiet the wild beating of his heart, he would swallow his pride.

The giant was standing outside his hut, getting things prepared for the first lesson of the day. There wasn't any time to waste, so Draco just cut to the chase, his words running together in a great big rush. "Harry's in trouble. We had a fight last night and he flew off towards the Forbidden Forest and no one has seen him since."

The Professor just stood there dumbfounded as his words sunk in. "Harry's in trouble?" he questioned in confusion, snatching on to the one thing that made any sense.

"Yes," Draco growled in irritation, a sense of urgency making him restless with worry. "Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest."

He startled, his eyes growing wide with panic as he dropped the lesson materials he had been setting up and whistled for Fang. He grabbed the great big beast by his face, peering into his eyes. "Find Harry," he commanded before letting him go. The dog took off at a run, Professor Hagrid following close behind. Draco had never run so hard in his life, his lungs burning with the effort, his legs cramping and protesting. It was only his panic that kept him moving forward. If something happened to him... he couldn't shake the image of Harry's tear-soaked face as he stepped off the roof. He didn't want that to be his last image of the boy alive.

Fang's baleful howl echoed through the forest. Draco's heart beat a bit faster as he charged towards the sound, oblivious to the branches clawing at his clothes and face. The first thing he saw was blood, lots of it, and then Harry's pale face, eyes staring up unseeing into the clouds above. Draco stood frozen in shock, his mind and body refusing to function.

"He's still breathing," the giant assured him, lifting the boy into his arms. "But just barely. We need to hurry."


	44. The Promise

The last hour had gone by in an incoherent blur. Somehow they had made it back to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey used several blood replenishing potions, which brought some of the color back to Harry's cheeks and then she tisked and huffed, mending bones and accessing injuries. She didn't spare a moment to say a word to anyone about his condition, her concerned face severe and threatening.

Draco watched her work feeling panicked, pacing back and forth just out of her line of sight, adrenaline making him feel sick and shaky. All his qualms and reservations from the night before felt ridiculous when faced with the very real possibility that he might lose Harry. He needed him, needed every second he could get with him, he didn't care anymore about fate and prophecies - Harry had promised him forever and he had to believe that.

Madam Pomfrey let out a noisy sigh, her shoulders relaxing a bit. She turned around, her face taking on a look of surprise as she noticed Draco standing there. She had run off Professor Hagrid earlier but had seemed unaware that there was someone else in the room.

"Is he..." Draco started to ask.

"He'll be fine," she huffed. "A mild concussion, a few nasty scrapes, and some broken bones. The branch that punctured his side caused most of his blood loss but thankfully missed all his vital organs. Just a few more centimeters difference and he would have bled out before you found him."

Draco swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, struggling to find his voice. "Can I see him?" he croaked, feeling overly emotional at just how close a call it had been.

She studied his face for a while, no doubt considering their former hostilities and the strangeness of this newfound concern. "I suppose so, but I don't expect that he will wake for another couple of days."

Draco nodded, nervously crossing over to sit next to Harry's bed. Harry's bloodied and torn pajamas had been left in a crumpled pile on the floor, a painful reminder of how he'd been found earlier that day. He couldn't stand to see them there so he vanished them with a swish of his wand.

Madam Pomfrey watched him for a while, her expression torn. "I'll be right back," she announced. "I need to inform his Head of House."

Draco took Harry's bloodied hand, placing a gentle kiss on his palm, before holding it within his own. He let out a relieved sigh, letting the reassuring warmth of his hand comfort him, reminding him that Harry was alive and well.

It wasn't very long before Professor McGonagall stormed into the infirmary and stopped, startled a bit to see Draco tenderly holding Harry's hand. "How did this happen?" she demanded.

Draco looked up at her in alarm, his stomach turning as he glanced guiltily away. "I don't know," he whispered, studying Harry's scratched up face. "We found him in the Forbidden Forest. He must have crashed his broom into a tree."

Professor McGonagall was quiet, too quiet. He snuck a quick glance and looked hurriedly away. She didn't appear very happy with the information he provided. In fact, she seemed quite irate. His heart was beating frantically under the force of her glare.

"Any clue as to why he was flying alone over the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night?" she asked through gritted teeth.

He swallowed nervously, his eyes wandering to Harry's chest. "I may have said some things that upset him," he admitted quietly.

"So, you were both out of your dorm rooms after hours?" she inquired sharply, her eyebrow arching slightly.

Draco nodded, swallowing nervously.

She let out an angry huff before storming out, possibly to inform Professor Snape, possibly too upset to say another word. She hadn't even given them detention yet, but he knew it was coming eventually.

Draco lay his head down on Harry's chest, listening to the reassuring cadence of his beating heart. He wanted forever.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry woke up after two days with no recollection at all of what had happened during that terrible night - including their fight. Draco couldn't help but feel a bit relieved about his amnesia and didn't feel very inclined to remind him of what an ass he had been.

While Harry had been sleeping, Draco and Hermione had spent a great deal of time at his bedside conversing about the nature of Harry's bond to Voldemort and ways in which they might be able to sever that bond without him dying. Hermione seemed very well-versed on the subject and had done plenty of research. That didn't stop her from starting the search all over again. Like today, she frequently sat at Harry's bedside tearing through books she checked out from the library on blood magic and magical bonds with the hopes that maybe she or the other adults had missed something. Draco watched her from the corner of his eye, mildly alarmed at how quickly she devoured them.

Except for Hermione, there was no one else in the infirmary, so Draco felt safe in bringing out his sketchpad to show Harry what he had been working on. There was a particularly amusing drawing of a potion exploding in Pansy's face that he was desperate to share and he was begrudgingly willing to let Hermione in on the joke.

"Did you know that William Shakespeare was a wizard?" Hermione interrupted, looking up from the book she had been reading to peer at Harry.

"No, I didn't," Harry replied, a curious expression on his face as he waited for Hermione to continue. It was obvious that her question was just a prelude to a much larger discussion.

"Yes, it says here that  _Romeo and Juliet_  is actually based on real-life events between two rival pureblood families. Obviously, the Montagues are still around, but it appears the Capulet line died off about one-hundred years ago. It also says that they didn't use poison, but formed some sort of bond via blood magic to commit suicide."

"The Oath of the Star Crossed Lovers," Draco whispered, remembering the story from his childhood. Every pureblood wizard had heard the cautionary tale. It was the reason that marriages were suggested but never enforced. If not for that, the practice of arranged marriages would still be commonplace.

"Yes," Hermione replied, watching Draco with a perplexed expression on her face. "That's what they started to call it. The original name has been lost to time."

"I had no idea," Harry stated with an amazed shake of his head. "You think any of his other stories were actually about wizards?"

"Most," Draco grumbled. It had been quite a scandal back in the day - this filthy mudblood airing everyone's business for the whole muggle world to see.

Harry peered at him with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I think I'd love to hear both versions of some of those stories. It sounds like it might be an interesting comparison."

Hermione looked equally excited by the prospect, but Draco wasn't even sure if he brought his copies when he left the Manor. It wasn't like they were high up on his list of treasured belongings.

"I'm sure you can find copies in the library," he informed, but he made a mental note to check through his trunk when he got back to his room.

<<<<<    >>>>>

His room felt cold and empty without Harry to keep him company. Madam Pomfrey had run them out again, claiming that Harry just needed one more night in the infirmary before she felt comfortable releasing him. One more night and he could have Harry back in his arms.

Shrugging off his feelings of loneliness, he decided to look for his copy of  _Romeo and Juliet_. He found it, almost at the bottom of his trunk amongst a dozen other books his mother had given him over the years - most of it romance and poetry. It hadn't really appealed to him, but it made her happy, so he had smiled and accepted the gifts.

He sprawled out on the couch, letting the warmth from the fireplace wash over him as he started to read. He could almost hear his mother's voice as his eyes skimmed over the worn pages. Since it was one of her favorites, she had read this story so often that the binding was coming undone. He had preferred more whimsical works such as  _A Midsummer's Night Dream_ , but today, this story was really resonating with him - lovers fated to die. It all felt too familiar.

The hours ticked by and as he got to the end where the lovers were performing their blood oath, a crazy idea took hold. If they couldn't find a way to break the bond between Harry and The Dark Lord, then he didn't want to live in a world without Harry. He wanted forever, even if that meant following after him in death. Harry would probably never agree to make the oath with him, but maybe, just maybe...

Just having a backup plan in place left him feeling more at ease, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. This was something in his life that he had control of.


	45. Two Puzzle Pieces

Since the weather outside had turned pleasant, the library was conspicuously empty. Ron wished he could be anywhere else but there. Hermione kept pursing her lips and huffing in disapproval at him as he brooded rather than working on his essay.

He was struggling to wrap his mind around it; Malfoy had been holding Harry's hand when he had shown up to visit him in the infirmary and Hermione hadn't put a stop to it. The whole world had gone mad.

It didn't bother him that Harry was gay or bi or whatever. It surprised him for sure, but didn't bother him. What bothered him was that of all the people in the world it had to be Malfoy.

"I don't trust him," he grumbled, quite possibly for the millionth time. Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him, no doubt tired of this age-old argument.

"You're just going to have to get over it," she sighed. "I put up with the both of you when you made lousy dating decisions. Now it's your turn."

It really wasn't that simple though. It wasn't just a bad choice in relationships. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it, that this was part of some bigger plot. He just couldn't envision how it was possible that Malfoy could have fallen for Harry... nothing against Harry of course. Malfoy hated Harry and Harry hated him. Or at least that was how the world used to work. Nothing about this made any sense.

He let out a soft growl, glaring at the blank sheet of parchment in front of him, feeling frustrated that Hermione wouldn't even consider his opinions on the matter.

"At least pretend to be supportive," Hermione admonished, closing the book she had been reading and adding it to a growing pile on the table. "If you honestly believe that Draco is up to no good, then avoiding Harry won't exactly be helping him any. After all, you need to be close to him if you want to keep an eye on him."

"You have a point," he begrudgingly admitted, his expression turning sullen as he studied his girlfriend's face. "I'll think about it."

She smiled at him for the first time in days and he felt his heart flutter even though he was still a bit miffed with her and kind of didn't want to make her happy at the moment. It just made him feel more aggravated with the whole situation.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco heard a tap at his window, followed by another, and then another. Every time he glanced over, there was nothing there. Curious, he left his chair by the fire and maneuvered around his room to peer out his window. It was dark outside, but he could just make out the figure of a person standing on the ground below. He was startled as another tapping sound rang out, but this time he caught sight of the pebble just before it struck the glass. There could only be one person in the world who would be throwing pebbles at his window in the middle of the night. He yanked open his window and leaned out.

"What the hell, Potter?" he snarled, watching as the boy readied himself to toss another pebble.

"I need a lift," Harry shouted up at him.

Grumbling, he dropped his broom out of the window, confident that the boy would catch it.

"Didn't Hagrid retrieve your broom?" Draco questioned as Harry crawled through his window.

Harry smiled at him sheepishly, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, but Professor McGonagall locked it up. She's also kicked me off the Quidditch team. Said detention obviously wasn't working so she needed to do something a bit more drastic."

"That's got to be rough," Draco replied in commiseration. "Can't say I really blame her though; you did crash into a tree and almost die so...."

Harry shoved at him playfully. "No fair," he complained. "I don't even remember how it happened."

"Maybe you're not as good on a broom as you think you are," Draco retorted.

"Or maybe I thought Madam Pomfrey might be missing me," Harry shot back with a smirk, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief.

Draco pulled him in close, their faces mere inches from each other. "You know you can just visit her, right? You don't have to try and kill yourself just to see her," he admonished.

"But my way of doing things is so much more exciting," Harry replied, a fake pout causing his lips to purse in an enticing manner.

"Stupid Gryffindors," Draco grumbled, leaning forward to capture Harry's lips in a rough and chastising kiss.

Harry pulled away with a chuckle. "Speaking of," he interrupted. "Ron has a few interesting conspiracy theories about you. Namely that you're still working for Voldemort..." he paused to consider his words, "... and, oddly enough, that you keep flirting with his girlfriend."

Draco winced, hiding his face a bit in embarrassment. "That last bit might be a teensy bit true." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But only because it really irritates him," Draco explained.

Harry let out a short barking laugh, like he was trying not to be amused at the situation, but couldn't help himself. "I thought I told you to be civil," he scolded while trying to fight against the smile that was forcing itself onto his face.

"A little harmless flirting between friends is perfectly civil," Draco replied with a haughty expression.

"So you and Hermione are friends now?" Harry inquired, his smile growing.

Draco paused to seriously consider the question. He had enjoyed working with her on the whole Voldemort problem and she seemed to be warming up to him now that he had stopped calling her a mudblood, but there was just some strange uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when it came to her. He kept searching his heart for a better explanation for why he couldn't fully embrace a friendship with her, but there wasn't one. Had she been born a pureblood wizard he wouldn't even hesitate to befriend her. He was trying to make an exception for her. She obviously wasn't like other muggle-borns.

"Maybe we might be..." Draco hesitantly replied.

Harry studied him intently, searching his face for answers to questions that Draco could only guess at. "I suppose that's a start," he finally replied.

Draco bristled at the implication that he was some project that Harry was working on. He felt his face flush in anger as he broke free of their embrace. "A start to what?" he growled, unhappy with the idea that Harry might be manipulating him.

Harry sighed, stepping back to take a seat on the windowsill. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand across his forehead.

He looked up at Draco, pinning him in place with scorching emerald eyes. "I really don't have any idea where I went wrong here," he said with an exasperated sigh. "I wasn't trying to imply anything other than the fact that our relationship will go a lot smoother if my friends like you and you like them. Unlike the rest of the people in your life, I rarely have some ulterior motive or grand plan. I'm more of a just-wing-it kind of person. The sooner you realize this, the fewer pointless arguments we'll have."

Draco felt both guilty and a little bit defensive. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," he conceded. "But you need to come to terms with the fact that this is who I am, how I was raised. I always have to consider more than just the face-value of what people say or do. That isn't going to change anytime soon. It's an instinct that I'll need in order to survive here."

They studied each other in silence, weighing each other's words very carefully.

"Okay," Harry replied. "I'll try to be more patient if you try to trust me more."

It seemed like a good truce, like Harry was willing to accept his flaws. He couldn't contain the tremor of excitement that ran through him. Harry wasn't disappointed in him, wasn't trying to change him - he just accepted him as is because he had asked him to. No one, not even his own parents, had loved him so unconditionally. He felt his heart swelling with emotion at the prospect of forever with him.

He lunged forward, answering Harry with a passionate kiss that almost caused them both to tumble out of the still-open window. Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he tipped backward, quickly grabbing the edge of the window and holding on against the crash of Draco's body. Startled by the sudden shift of position, Draco pulled back. They both let out a nervous laugh as they caught their breath, adrenaline coursing through their veins at the near mishap. They probably would have survived the fall, but neither Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall would have been happy to see them back so soon.

"I think we should call it a night before we do something stupid," Harry admonished.

Draco gave him a rueful smile. "That's probably for the best. You did just get out of the infirmary after all. No need to put you back in just yet."

Harry let out a gentle laugh, allowing himself to be disrobed and led into bed, where the two snuggled half-naked under the sheets. Draco was overjoyed to have the boy back where he belonged. They didn't even need to say a thing - just two bodies acting on the instinct for love and warmth as they drifted off into an easy slumber.


	46. Waiting on a Miracle

Both Harry and Draco sat in their usual chairs in Draco's dorm room, drawing warmth from the fire as the night progressed. Draco kept looking up from his sketchpad and glancing nervously at Harry as the boy read through his battered copy of  _Romeo and Juliet_. He wanted Harry to see what he had seen and agree to take the oath with him, but he didn't know how he was going to bring up the subject. How do you ask someone, 'Hey, let's form a suicide pact'? It seemed appalling to him to even consider talking about it out loud.

Harry sighed as he turned the last page, closing the book and setting it down on the end table. His eyes reflected the dancing flames as he stared into the fireplace, lost in thought, an unhappy expression on his face.

"So, what did you think?" Draco questioned hesitantly.

Harry startled slightly as his thoughts were interrupted, he glanced at Draco briefly before his eyes returned to the fire. "It was a bit stupid," he grumbled. "I can't believe all that actually happened. Honestly, nobody needed to die. There were a thousand different ways that should have ended."

At one point in time, Draco had felt the same way about the story. Because of his doomed relationship with Harry, his feelings had changed. Not entirely changed - he still thought a lot of it was pointless and unnecessary, but he kept getting hung up on that oath, on lovers fated to die together. He'd been hoping Harry would see it too, would understand why it was necessary. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to continue living without Harry, seeing him lying under that tree and thinking he was dead had driven that point home beyond any shadow of a doubt.

"What about the oath?" Draco probed, slowly working up his courage to broach the subject.

"What about it?" Harry grumbled back unhappily.

"Well, what did you..." he trailed off as he caught sight of the piercing look that Harry was sending his way.

"No," Harry stated firmly. "Absolutely not."

"But..." Draco pleaded, getting cut off as Harry abruptly stood up and approached him with a threatening glare, his body radiating a quiet fury.

"No," Harry growled, placing his hands on the armrests of Draco's chair as he bent down and leaned forward, his scowling face mere inches from Draco's. "I refuse to have more blood on my hands, especially yours!"

Draco shied away from Harry's scorching emerald eyes, scooting as far back in his chair as he could. This was not at all how he envisioned this conversation going. He has suspected that Harry would not agree with him, but had remained hopeful that he could convince him to change his mind. He had never imagined that he would receive this quiet smoldering rage instead. It reminded him of just why the Dark Lord feared him. He didn't look like a vulnerable little boy anymore, but a fully grown wizard with a deadly repertoire of spells and the power and ability to cast them.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Draco apologized in a tiny and fearful voice.

Harry's breathing sounded forced, a slight tremor running through his body. "Promise me," he demanded. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid when I'm gone."

Draco nodded, his heart pounding in his chest, his voice completely lost to him.

Harry reached for him, pulling him into a desperate embrace, his forehead resting against Draco's as all the tension left his body in response to Draco's promise. "I need to know that my sacrifice meant something," he whispered brokenly. "If I can save the world for you..."

Draco relaxed in Harry's arms, returning his embrace. He understood now why Harry had been so upset and it made him want to smile and cry at the same time. Everything was just so messed up. This wasn't the forever he wanted.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry was exhausted. He had been plagued by nightmares, the worry that Draco wouldn't keep his promise coloring his dreamscape. He gave up on sleeping long before dawn and decided to peruse Draco's sketchbook to pass the time. There was a lot more content and he'd need to get him a new one soon. The firelight illuminated page after page filled with his image. It was as if the boy were trying to commit everything about him to memory. There was a desperate feel to the artwork - dozens of hastily drawn sketches, like he was afraid the moment would slip through his fingers if he wasn't fast enough. It made Harry feel uneasy and uncertain about the pain he was putting Draco through, a familiar pang of guilt starting to turn his stomach.

When morning finally broke, he dressed and quietly snuck out of the room leaving Draco sleeping soundly. He remembered to levitate the broom back through Draco's window and used his magic to gently shut it.

Hermione was already at breakfast when he entered the Great Hall, reading  _The Daily Prophet_  as she nibbled on an english muffin. As it was Saturday, Ron wouldn't be up for a few more hours. He sat down across from her, serving himself some breakfast which he stabbed at in a half-hearted manner.

"Anything important?" he asked, gesturing to the paper.

She blinked at him in surprise. They had stopped discussing current affairs with Harry as the subject made everyone feel uneasy. He hadn't asked her about it in months, but he was feeling a little self-abusive today.

"Well," she croaked before clearing her throat to get her voice to work properly this early in the morning. "It's been rather strange. The Ministry has admitted that Voldemort has returned, but they aren't really doing anything about it. It's been almost a year - it's as if they're still in shock. From the conversations we overheard at The Burrow, The Order seemed pretty upset about it. They kept complaining that The Ministry wasn't doing enough to help them. It feels like the calm before the storm that no one is preparing for."

None of this was really news to Harry. Frustratingly enough, very little had changed.

"Voldemort's been quiet too; probably hesitating to take action because of the uncertainty surrounding that prophecy," Hermione added with a slight smirk. "Which is kind of silly when you consider the fact he already knows everything he needs to about it, he just doesn't realize he knows it all. I suppose Dumbledore is using it as the ace up his sleeve, his great big bluff to keep Voldemort at bay. The papers keep alluding to it and referring to you as 'The Chosen One' in order to further the propaganda surrounding the myth."

Harry had to smile at the thought of Voldemort, sitting in some musty hideout somewhere, wondering what was in that prophecy that caused everyone to be so certain of his inevitable defeat. Suddenly, a rather frightening thought occurred to him.

"I don't think The Ministry is in shock," Harry replied, his eyes widening in alarm as his thoughts began to swirl and take shape. "I think they're buying into their own propaganda. Why bother putting up a fight when you can just wait around for 'The Chosen One' to do his thing? That's probably what everyone is waiting for."

Hermione's face turned pale with dread. "Why didn't I see it before?" she whispered fearfully. "As long as they keep expecting you to perform another miracle, they'll never start adequately preparing. They'll be too late."

Harry's arms had begun to tingle, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as a wave of fear crashed over him. "I don't have any miracles," he whispered back. "What do they expect me to do?"

"I don't know," she replied with a slow shake of her head.

He swallowed nervously, his heart hammering in his chest, his stomach in knots. How was he going to fix this? Thousands of people might die thinking they needn't worry about a thing, that their 'Chosen One' would magically solve everything.

"I think I need some fresh air," Harry breathlessly announced. He stood up much too fast, making his head spin and blackness encroach on his vision. Icy tendrils of panic were beginning to constrict his chest. He darted away from the Great Hall, heading for the only comfort he could think of.


	47. You're Hopeless

Tonks was for once enjoying her morning run. It was finally warm enough outside that the air didn't burn her lungs as she breathed, making them ache the longer she ran. She could actually start pushing herself again. It was imperative that she stay in shape while she was posted at Hogwarts; The Order would certainly have need of her talents in the months and possibly years to come.

A distracted raven-haired student almost collided with her as she rounded the corner. Stumbling backward, her almond-brown eyes widened in surprise upon recognizing his tear-streaked face.

"Harry?" she choked out in shock. "What's wrong?"

He sucked in a large gasping breath, frantically wiping the tears from his face, and schooling his features into some semblance of normalcy. "It's nothing," he assured her, his voice cracking slightly.

"Bullshit," she growled. "Spit it out."

He studied her in silence, weighing her worth with calculating emerald eyes as he contemplated his next move.

She crossed her arms in irritation and let out a noisy breath. "Why won't you trust me?" she questioned.

His uncomfortable appraisal continued before he sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "It's stupid," he mumbled sheepishly. "I've only just now realized that no one is preparing for the next war because they're all counting on me to defeat Voldemort."

She couldn't help but chuckle at the very serious and forlorn expression on his face. "Oh, Harry," she snorted. "That's the way it always is. Nobody prepares for war until it's right on their doorstep. You should hear Remus rant about how frustrating it was to realize that they could have ended the last one within a couple of months with just the help of the wizards and witches of London alone, but everyone was too busy making excuses and cowering in their little hidey-holes. That's the way it is with most people, too attached to their creature comforts, too willing to sit back and hope that things will just work out for the best. It's only the extraordinary few who see a situation for what it is and have the backbone to stand up and fight. Honestly, if they didn't have you to pin their hopes on, they'd just be pinning them on The Order or The Ministry like they did last time, so don't let it get to you."

She ruffled his hair in a playful manner, hoping to elicit a smile from the boy. She didn't get her wish, but it seemed at least that the black cloud that had hung over him had begun to dissipate. His face was thoughtful as he quietly contemplated her impromptu speech.

"I guess you have a point," he conceded. "I just hate the idea of people needlessly dying while they are waiting on another miracle from me."

"Screw 'em," Tonks announced with a careless shrug of her shoulders. "They'd have died anyway; those types always do... and they're always so shocked when it happens," she added with a roll of her eyes.

He blinked at her in surprise and she instantly regretted how jaded and pessimistic that had sounded. It wasn't exactly what she should have said to cheer him up. Remus would have done better, but he was gone and she was here.

"What I'm trying to say is... well, those people aren't your responsibility. They are perfectly capable of taking responsibility for themselves, but they choose not to, so..."

He nodded at her, his body relaxing a bit in what she hoped was relief. "You're right," he admitted with a shake of his head. "I shouldn't let it get to me."

She pulled him into an awkward hug, his small body stiffening in her arms in response to the abruptness of it. She released her hold on him, pushing him away, her hands resting on his shoulders as she studied his face. "You feeling better now?" she questioned with a hopeful smile.

He smiled back weakly in response, his eyes still a little clouded with sadness. "I think a little bit," he replied.

"Good," she announced with a clap of her hand on his shoulder. "Stop by my office any time you need to talk."

"Thank you, Professor," he whispered, brushing past her to continue in the direction he'd first been heading to.

She watched him go, a nervous feeling blossoming in the pit of her stomach. 'Professor' - the year was almost over and she still hadn't gotten used to that title. Had she been a good Professor just now? Had she said the right things? What would Remus have said? She let out a heavy sigh and continued, hoping a good runner's high would quiet her doubting mind.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco awoke to an empty room, glaring at the spot that Harry should have been occupying. For Harry to leave without saying anything or even leaving a note behind was very unusual; he was usually more considerate than that. It wasn't as if Draco had a magical map that he could use to locate him.

The opening of his window grabbed his attention. He watched in fascination as his broom trembled slightly and then levitated outside, disappearing below the outer edge of his windowsill. There was only one person he knew of who could have pulled that off blind and Draco was preparing to have words with him. Those words, however, instantly evaporated when he caught sight of Harry's flushed face and puffy eyes – he'd obviously been crying.

"What's wrong?" he questioned in concern, quickly closing the distance between them to hold out a steadying hand which Harry took as he entered through the window.

He gave him a half-hearted smile and shook his head. "It's nothing. I think I've sorted it all out."

"Whether it's sorted or not, I still want to know," Draco informed in a commanding tone of voice, irritated at being kept in the dark about something that had made Harry cry.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "It's really stupid," he mumbled, his emerald eyes fluttering open to peer at him before darting away to study the far wall. "I got myself worked up over nothing... again."

"Tell me about this nothing – I want to hear all about it," Draco pleaded, taking the boy's hand and forcing him to sit down on the bed.

"Okay," Harry whispered in resignation, looking very small in his over-sized muggle clothing as he started to ramble. "It was about being 'The Chosen One' and how everyone is relying on me for some big miracle because they don't actually know what the prophecy says. I started feeling guilty that no one was preparing as they should, but Tonks told me that's the way it always is, that they'd have just found some other reason to not take responsibility for themselves."

Draco tried to keep his expression neutral, amused at how naïve Harry seemed regarding the true nature of people. There were quite a number of books that he would need to introduce him to. A small smile tugged at his lips at the thought – it was time to give this Gryffindor a proper Slytherin education. His pulse began to race at the thought of Harry, already a deadly force of nature, armed with all the cunning and ambition he could provide.

Draco pounced, catching the boy by surprise as he pinned him to the bed at a somewhat awkward angle, his lips passionately capturing his. After a confused and startled moment, Harry relaxed under him, shifting slightly to allow Draco's tongue free reign to explore.

It had been almost a week since they had kissed like this, the nervousness surrounding Voldemort's intrusion making them hesitant to get too physical again. Draco hadn't realized how much he had needed this, how much he missed it.

Harry's hips were twitching underneath him, a soft moaning noise escaping from deep in the back of his throat that drove Draco wild. "Harry," he panted, a hand wandering up to grab a fistful of his messy black hair. There was a sharp intake of breath which ended in another throaty moan as Draco tightened his grip.

"You're hopeless," Draco whispered, pulling back slightly to study Harry's sparkling green eyes.

"And you're not?" Harry shot back with a smirk.

"That is neither here nor there," Draco replied smugly, his fingers tracing lightly along the inside of Harry's arm, causing the boy to tremble at his touch. He liked that he could do this to him, drive him wild with such ease.

He kissed him again, using that as a distraction to start unbuttoning Harry's overly baggy pants. His hands wandered into the boy's boxers, finding his cock already straining against the fabric, the tip weeping in anticipation.

"Please, Draco," he begged against his lips. "Take me."

Draco was momentarily startled by his request, his mind wandering back to that night and the look of pain and terror on Harry's stricken face. His chest tightened in fear as he removed his hand from the boy's pants.

"I know what to expect this time," Harry assured him, his expression desperate as he clung to Draco. "I won't lose control again. I promise."

Draco's heart was beating rapidly in his chest, the rush of blood noisy in his ears. He wanted this, he wanted it so bad that it hurt, but he couldn't entirely shake his fear from that night, his fear of The Dark Lord. He wasn't sure anymore.

"Please," Harry begged again. "Just trust me."

Draco studied the needy look in his eyes, the delicate flushing of his cheeks, the soft parting of his lips. His mind went quiet and still - full of purpose. They lost themselves in each other's eyes for a while, just living in the moment.

"Okay," he whispered, excitement beginning to simmer just below the surface.

"But these have got to go," Draco stated with a slight smirk, gesturing at Harry's hideous muggle attire in mock-disgust before pulling his pajama top over his head to reveal lean chest muscles.

Harry shivered slightly, his eyes burning a path down Draco's body as a slow smile started to pull at his lips. He quickly shrugged off his own shirt and began working on the rest of Draco's request, his hand fumbling uselessly at his already unbuttoned pants. Draco let out a throaty growl of frustration at Harry's apparent ineffectiveness in removing his own clothes and turned his attention towards relieving Harry of his pants with a few desperate tugs that ended at Harry's shoes. Draco tore them off his feet with a vengeance and finished undressing him.

With a satisfied grin on his face as he gazed at Harry's flushed face and naked body, Draco wiggled out of the rest of his clothing and reached for the lube he had stashed in his nightstand. Harry scooted further towards the center of the bed pulling Draco towards him with a suddenly steady and certain look in his eyes as their lips met, tongues dancing around each other.

Draco's heart was racing, his cock twitched in anticipation of returning to Harry's welcoming warmth. He fumbled blindly with the lube, slicking his fingers, his mouth never leaving Harry's as he slipped a single finger inside him and swirled it gently around.

Harry moaned against his intrusive tongue as Draco added a second finger, stretching and preparing him, the tingle of magic from the lube going to work at cleansing and relaxing him. The third finger glided in with little resistance, but he couldn't quite hit that amazing bundle of nerves that had Harry practically screaming in pleasure while still simultaneously kissing him - the angle was impossible. He let out a breathy sigh as he pulled away from the boy, removing his fingers and positioning himself at Harry's entrance. Why bother using his fingers when he could use other, more pleasurable, things?

Draco pushed into him, his cock gripped in tight resistance against every warm inch that he gained. He shuddered at the feel of it, thinking that he probably should have spent a little more time preparing him. He was so, so tight - almost painfully so. Draco's head was swimming in pleasurable ecstasy when he realized where he had gone wrong - he hadn't lubed himself.

He pulled fully out and rectified his error with a sheepish grin. Harry gave a moan of displeasure at the loss of him, his hips lifting to prevent it.

With a lot less restraint, he plunged back in, electricity shooting up through his body. Harry shifted eagerly beneath him, his hips guiding him where he needed him to be. He let out a strangled groan as Draco hit the right spot, his back arching in pleasure. Draco memorized the angle, trying to keep it in mind against the dizzying feel of being inside him as he continued thrusting.

Harry was panting heavily, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his hands desperately gripping the blankets. The sight of him coming undone was maddening. Draco picked up the pace, his hands ghosting over Harry's straining erection. He gasped in surprise, his emerald eyes flying open to gaze at Draco in wonder.

"I'm close," he panted. Draco felt a fluttering of pride at the look on Harry's face, but that thought melted away as Harry tightened around him, his joyful cry echoing through the room. Draco felt his own end fast approaching, warmth pooling in his groin as he continued plunging into him. There was an explosion of light as he made his final few thrusts, tremors of excitement coursing through him. He collapsed upon Harry, breathing heavily.

"Amazing," he whispered, only able to force out that one single word as his mind reeled. Harry nodded weakly against him, his fingers running through silky blond locks.


	48. A Proper Education

Draco's stomach grumbled noisily; he'd skipped breakfast in order to do...other things. Harry had left a few hours earlier for some obligatory friend time. The only reason Draco had allowed him to leave their bed in the first place was because Harry promised they would eat lunch together. Unfortunately, they hadn't worked out if Harry would be coming back here first or if Draco should meet him there. As the minutes ticked by, it became apparent that he was meant to meet them. He'd told Harry not to bother levitating the broom back, thinking that was a pretty obvious invitation for him to return, but maybe not. Maybe Harry just assumed that Draco wouldn't mind going through the Common Room now that it was supposedly safe.

Draco left his room and traveled down the stairs, cautiously approaching the Slytherin Common Room. A tremor of trepidation ran through his body. He halted just inside the entrance, working up his courage to continue. It was stupid to be afraid; he saw these people every day in the Great Hall during meals. He took in a huge lungful of air to prepare himself and froze in mid-step at the sound of Pansy's simpering voice.

"Everything's in place?" she questioned darkly.

"Yeah," Nott replied. "We've got it all figured out - cost us a bit though."

She purred in a pleased sort of way. Nott let out a throaty moan in response to whatever she was doing to him. Draco felt his skin crawling at the thought of them together in that way, bile rising to burn the back of his throat. In response to Nott's continued moaning, his heart started fluttering wildly in his chest, unpleasant memories bubbling to the surface of his mind.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, taking a deep steadying breath. Harry would be waiting for him in the Great Hall; he couldn't stay hidden there in the stairs forever.

With a determined shake of his head, he stepped through the threshold, his eyes immediately drawn to Pansy straddling Nott on a nearby couch. He didn't let his true feelings show as he sneered at them. "Ugh, get a room you two," he snarled in disgust.

They jumped at the sound of his voice, surprise and fear written plainly on their faces. Whatever they had just been discussing, they had not intended for him to overhear. Pansy studied him like a cat eyeing an unfamiliar beast.

Draco arrogantly rolled his eyes, continuing to the Great Hall, ignoring the intensity of her eyes on his back. Judging by their reaction, it was obvious that their mysterious plans didn't bode well for him - or Harry. That worrisome thought quickened his steps.

He was met with Ron's predictable glare as he crossed over to the Golden Trio's table. It seemed that neither Harry nor Hermione had managed to talk him around. Honestly, it was better this way as he didn't have to pretend to be nice to the prat.

"Pansy and Nott are up to something again," Draco grumbled, holding Harry's emerald gaze as he sat across from him.

His sitting at the Gryffindor table was such a surprise to some people that it triggered a mad rush of whispers and pointing. He had to struggle against the smile that was pulling at his lips - a vision of their shocked faces as he pulled the boy in for a passionate kiss playing out in his mind.

They had both decided that since Voldemort and some of the teachers already knew, there was no point in keeping things secret, but they weren't quite prepared to let people know just how close they were to one another. The rumor mill would be running full-tilt either way, but Harry was being shy. Draco thought it was sort of adorable in a way.

"What happened?" Hermione questioned, her natural curiosity piqued at the vagueness of his statement.

"I overheard them talking about getting something ready - something that had cost a lot of money. If Nott even thought to bring up the price tag, then it must have been quite costly," Draco replied.

Harry frowned in confusion, worrying his lip with his teeth in an unsettling manner. Draco's eyes were drawn to them, a delicate flush appearing on his face.

Ron let out a disgusted grunt, his nose wrinkled up at the sight of Draco's unwavering attention.

"But I thought you had arranged a truce," Harry voiced in concern, ignoring Ron and his stupid noises.

Draco let a slow smile spread across his face. "Never trust a Slytherin," he reminded.

"I'll say," Ron piped up, a look of triumphant vindication appearing on his face.

Draco finally turned his attention to Ron, appraising the boy for a while before he spoke, "I wasn't meaning that for me."

Ron snorted in disbelief.

"What do you think it is?" Hermione interrupted, cutting through the growing tension without a moment's hesitation. "Any theories?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Draco admitted. "I fear this is going to be one of those stay on our guard and hope for the best kind of situations."

"I'd rather we figured it out," Hermione grumbled with a dissatisfied frown on her face. "Can't you just spy on them or something? It's supposed to be something you guys are good at."

"Spying?" Draco scoffed in mock-offense. "That has always been beneath a Malfoy. We prefer to hire people to do that for us."

Harry snorted in amusement at Draco's haughty tone of voice, his eyes sparkling as he watched him. Hermione however, did not appear to be amused by his antics.

"Then hire someone," she admonished, her lips pursed in disapproval. "If you recall, waiting around to see what they had planned didn't really work out well for you the last time."

He sucked in a shocked breath, his face flushing in indignation at her words. "I do remember," he hissed. "I remember it quite well, and I'd thank you not to mention it again."

"I'm just..." she paused, her face twisting up as she struggled to find the words. "I'm just worried about you is all."

Ron let out an angry strangled sort of noise, his face as red as his hair as he turned his glare on his girlfriend.

Draco felt suddenly very pleased with himself - not only because of what Hermione had said, but also because of the effect it was having on the ape.

"Thank you for your concern," he graciously replied. "In the meantime, I think Harry is overdue for a proper Slytherin education. It will better prepare him for the difficult road ahead... and anything that Pansy might be planning."

Hermione gazed at him, a sparkle of excitement shining in her eyes at the very notion of any sort of extra education. He'd have to remember that anything he taught Harry would inevitably make it back to the curious witch.

With practiced grace, he served himself lunch, amused by the incredulous look that Weasley kept passing between his friends. Seizing this moment as a chance to insult the boy by pointedly demonstrating the differences in their upbringing, he delicately buttered a dinner roll and took a dainty bite before very carefully pouring himself a cup of tea, adding cream and sugar, and swirling his spoon around without a single chink of silverware on china. Wrapped in an air of superiority, he took a quiet sip from his cup, then set it down noiselessly on the saucer.

The others shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as the tension grew, tackling their meals without comment. Harry would occasionally shoot him a nervous smile before returning to his food and the brooding silence.

<<<<<    >>>>>

"That was unpleasant," Harry stated with a chuckle once they had made it inside Draco's room.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco coyly responded. "I rather enjoyed myself."

Harry let out an amused snort as he pulled Draco close. "I know you did, but could you be a little less obvious next time."

Draco shook his head, his silvery eyes dancing. "Never. I'm an all or nothing kind of person."

"Then I guess I'm choosing nothing," Harry announced, releasing his hold on Draco and crossing over to sit in his chair by the fire.

He could tell that Draco was smiling without even looking at him. "We'll see how long that lasts," he replied in a seductive voice. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling back.

"But first things first," Draco announced in a slightly threatening manner. "It's time to educate you."

Harry's eyes never left Draco as he dug through the books in his trunk, pulling out a few to examine before tossing them aside. He had a shocking number of books to go through hiding in his trunk; Hermione would have been jealous. With an approving nod, he set aside a small stack and took 2 off the top, before pulling a third book out of his nightstand.

Harry felt a small tremor of excitement course through him at the sight of Draco's purposeful walk towards him.

"This one," Draco announced, handing him a book entitled  _The Art of War_ , "is one of the few muggle works that my father had me read."

Harry frowned at the title, wondering how a book on military tactics would be useful to him. In response, Draco explained, "It's about more than just warfare; it's about fighting a bloodless war through strategy and deceit. It has a lot of practical business applications."

Harry nodded in response, his hands tracing over the worn cover of the book. This one had been read at least a dozen times, if not more.

"Try not to get too worked up over this next one," Draco warned, handing him a book entitled  _The Serpent and the Lion - A Practical Guide to Business Dealings with Difficult People_. "It has some very unflattering things to say about Gryffindors and I know how sensitive you get about the subject. However, as you will learn from  _The Art of War_ , you must know the enemy as well as you know yourself."

Draco was silent for a while, a slow blush appearing on his cheeks as he fiddled with the last book. "And this one," Draco started as he handed over the thin, battered-looking book without a title, "this one is... well, I'm tired of doing all the work. This has - this is - just read it," he finished in a biting tone, his face growing redder.

Harry flipped through a few pages, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of several explicit illustrations. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly going dry. This was where Draco had learned it all.

A barking laugh escaped his throat at the sight of Draco turning away from him in embarrassment and shifting on his feet in obvious discomfort. "I think I'll read this one first," he announced with a wolfish grin.


	49. Trouble in Paradise

Hermione watched in irritation as Ron worked himself up into another fit over Malfoy while they were leaving lunch.

"He was mocking me," Ron cried out indignantly, his long legs carrying him away from the Great Hall at a rather brisk pace. Hermione was almost jogging just to keep up with the distraught red-head.

"Slow down," she huffed, coming to a complete stop in order to force him to acknowledge her.

"Sorry," he replied, turning around with a sheepish expression on his face.

She let out an exasperated sigh, eyeing him with a disapproving look. "Sometimes I have to wonder if we operate in the same universe as you. Malfoy never once mocked you. In fact, he was on his best behavior while you - you were an absolute pig. You couldn't even pretend to be nice to him."

Ron made a flustered choking noise, his face turning red again. "But he wasn't nice...he - he - he kept eating and - and insulting me with his - his food!"

"Insulting you with his food?!" Hermione practically shrieked. "Honestly Ron, this is quite an unheard of level of paranoia - even for you. He was just eating."

"But he wasn't just eating. He was eating and being so damned smug about it," Ron stated incredulously.

"It's Malfoy; that's just the way he is. You're reading way too much into things," she admonished.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest in childish petulance. "Well, I refuse to share another meal with him. If the two of you insist on having him join us, I'll be eating somewhere else."

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco couldn't believe it was still Saturday - the day felt especially long. Harry had spent most of the afternoon reading and furiously blushing as he glanced over at Draco more than just a couple of times. The awkward behavior settled down as he moved on to other reading material.

As dinner time arrived, Harry was engrossed in  _The Art of War_. Draco smiled at him, very pleased with himself for his good decision-making in regards to that selection.

"You ready?" he questioned, attempting to bring the boy back to reality.

"Give me second," Harry replied distractedly. "Let me just finish up this one part."

When Harry had finally found a good stopping point, they headed for the Great Hall together, the chatter coming to a screeching halt before picking back up to a deafening roar as they entered. Ron had opted to sit further down the table with Dean and Seamus, occasionally glaring at them. It seemed that he and Hermione had a fight or something, as she was also shooting him back the occasional glare.

"What's all that about?" Harry asked as the feuding couple traded glares again.

"Ron's being an idiot," Hermione huffed.

Draco had to work hard not to laugh as he remembered a similar sentiment being shared not too long ago.

"What's he done this time?" Harry questioned, taking the seat next to her so she wouldn't have to shout over the noise. Draco sat across from them and leaned in close to listen.

"He seems to think that Malfoy's good table manners were intended as a personal insult," she spat in disbelief.

Draco and Harry traded knowing glances, each trying desperately hard not to laugh. Hermione never liked having to admit that she was wrong - even when she was. It would be better if they kept up the ruse and waited things out.

"I'm sorry," Draco apologized, schooling his features into a picture of innocence. "I didn't realize the effect I was having on him. If he ever rejoins us, I'll be sure to eat like an absolute bear in order to put him at ease."

"Please don't," Hermione groaned. "It's bad enough with just Ron."

"I understand," Draco replied, placing his hand on hers in quiet commiseration. When he was certain she wasn't paying attention, he allowed a quick glance down the table to see if Ron had noticed. To his absolute delight, the red-head was scowling, his eyes like daggers as he glared at their hands.

Harry cleared his throat rather loudly to break up the moment, giving Draco a rather meaningful look.

"I'm sure Ron will eventually come around," Harry reassured the girl. "He always does."

Hermione smiled at him. "I know. I just get frustrated waiting on him to get his head out of his ass."

Draco kept his mouth shut, feeling like it wouldn't be right to recommend that they just stop waiting on him. He'd never liked the boy and he didn't think that was likely to change. It would be better for him if they just broke it off permanently, but he knew that Harry wouldn't like that.

"I'll have a talk with him tomorrow after he's cooled down a bit," Harry offered. "Maybe we'll go for a walk around the lake."

Hermione leaned against him with a satisfied sigh. "That sounds like a lovely idea," she remarked.

Draco felt a twinge of jealousy rear its ugly head, but he talked it down. He had never been very good at sharing his toys, but he knew Harry would not find his possessiveness very cute. He just had to breathe and make it through dinner.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry couldn't help but smile at the petulant look on Draco's face. He knew that Hermione's close proximity to him during dinner had bothered the blond and he had reciprocated her friendly affection just to get under his skin - it was payback for what Draco had put Ron through.

"I know you don't like him, but he's my best friend. Can you just try a little harder? I promise I'll talk to him about all the glaring," Harry begged.

"Only if you keep your hands to yourself at breakfast tomorrow," Draco countered.

"I can do that," he replied, a sly smile appearing on his face as he sauntered over to Draco's chair and straddled the boy. "But how do you suppose I should punish you in the future?"

Draco placed his hands on Harry's hips, a coy smile appearing as he gazed into Harry's eyes. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Harry leaned forward, nibbling at Draco's lips, his hands running up the back of his head and getting lost in silky platinum blond strands of hair. Draco closed his eyes, losing himself to the moment as Harry continued to nip at him, traveling down his neck and stopping at his collarbone.

"I'm sure I will," he whispered in Draco's ear, causing the boy to shiver. "Maybe I'll try something in that book you shared with me?"

Draco was practically puddy now, nodding against his chest as if his life depended on it. He let out a throaty moan as Harry reached down to palm his throbbing bulge.

"Come and get it," Harry challenged, taking his hand away and standing up. He drifted towards the bed, shedding his clothing as he went, certain that Draco would follow his lead. Draco didn't disappoint, quickly removing his own clothing, eager to finish what Harry had started.

Harry turned around and froze, admiring the view as Draco approached, his delicate hips swaying slightly with every step.

"You like what you see?" Draco questioned, stopping a few feet from the bed so that Harry could admire his sculpted body. Harry let out a low, feral growl in response; his body burning with need.

His brained seemed to short-circuit, unable to form complete sentences with which to respond to Draco's question. "Bed - Now!" was the only response he was able to bark out. When Draco wasn't moving fast enough for him, he grabbed him, throwing him down upon the covers in order to plunder his mouth.

Draco let out a needy whimper as Harry explored his body with his mouth, running rough hands along his silky thighs and stopping just shy of his goal.

Wandlessly, he summoned the lube that still sat on the nightstand from this morning's activities and slicked his fingers. Harry dragged his tongue along the sensitive underside of Draco's shaft, reveling in the moans and whimpers that he was getting from the blond. He took Draco's throbbing need into his mouth, his fingers teasing at Draco's entrance, a cry of pleasure echoing in his ears.

"Please," Draco begged, his hips thrusting into his warm mouth, his fingers threading desperately through Harry's messy hair.

Harry let out a moan against Draco's cock, pushing his finger past the tight muscles of his entrance to stroke the velvety insides of his channel as he began loosening and preparing him. His cock twitched in anticipation as he added a second finger to that tight heat, his mouth still working Draco's swollen member.

Draco started thrusting against his intrusion, impatient to move things along as he tugged desperately at Harry's hair. A shiver of excitement ran through Harry when he finally found what he was looking for, watching as Draco arched into his touch with a lusty scream.

Removing his fingers and mouth, Harry reached again for the lube and liberally coated himself. He lifted Draco's legs up over his shoulders, positioning himself at his entrance as he fought to control his breathing. Draco looked agonizingly beautiful beneath him, peering up at him with large, trusting eyes, his face flushed in excitement.

Pushing into him gently, he felt the muscles protest briefly and then part to allow his intrusion. Inch by glorious inch, he buried himself, his head spinning at the feel of Draco's delicious warmth. Once fully sheathed, he paused to allow them both time to adjust. If not, he feared he might lose himself too soon.

It wasn't long before Draco was squirming beneath him, begging him to start moving again. Harry happily obliged, hoping he could hold himself together long enough to bring his lover to satisfaction as each thrust fired along the nerves of his cock in delirious ecstasy.

He reached down to stroke Draco's own weeping need, his hands a little clumsy as he struggled to concentrate. Draco shifted his hips further up, his chasm tightening suddenly when Harry struck sensitive nerves. Lightning shot behind closed eyelids and he clung desperately to his sense of self-control. He wasn't ready to be done yet; he needed more.

Draco was meeting him thrust for thrust, his throaty moans and cries of pleasure eroding Harry's will. With a keening cry, Draco spilled himself into Harry's rough hands, his channel tightening and pulsing around Harry as he plunged deeper. There was no way he could stave off his own release any longer, his passion burst forth like a river of molten pleasure coursing through him.

He stiffened, trembling slightly, his body so sensitive that he couldn't stand to move. Draco shifted under him, firing off a spark of colors behind his eyes. He whimpered against the intensity of it.

After an eternity, the feeling eventually ebbed and he was able to take Draco's legs off his shoulders and remove himself so that he could collapse in breathless wonder next to Draco.

"Thank you," Harry whispered when he finally found his voice.

"That should be my line," Draco breathlessly replied.


	50. Unexpected Company

Snow had fallen sometime during the night, blanketing the grounds in pristine whiteness. Harry was certain it wouldn't last long - the weather had been too warm recently. He turned away from the window, smiling at the sight of Draco's tousled blond hair and sleeping face, memories from the night before dancing in his mind. He woke his sleeping lover with a gentle kiss.

"Mmmm. Morning already?" Draco question, his eyes fluttering open with a yawn.

"Yeah," Harry replied with a dreamy smile. "And look - it snowed last night."

Draco sat up and glanced out the window, his silvery eyes reflecting the purity of the snow, making them look almost white as he shivered slightly.

"Cold," he mumbled, pulling Harry back into bed and snuggling into him, pressing his lithe and naked body against him in a suggestive manner.

Harry almost lost all sense of restraint, warmth pooling in his groin, depriving his brain of the necessary blood needed for rational thought.

"We can't," Harry choked out at last. It took everything he had in him to say those words.

"Why?" Draco questioned, pulling away from Harry with a pout.

Harry's eyes were drawn to his full pink lips, his adorably cross expression. He had to fight against the urge to pounce. It was almost impossible to turn him away.

"I promised Hermione that I would talk to Ron," Harry reminded with a shake of his head to clear his thoughts.

Draco snorted in disdain. "I'm getting stood up for a ginger," he grumbled.

"Never," Harry whispered, playfully nipping at his ear. "We'll have fun after."

He fought against it, but even still a sly smile tugged at Draco's lips. "I suppose that's acceptable."

"Now that that's been sorted, I need to catch Ron at breakfast before he leaves. He usually wakes up early when he's upset about something," Harry announced, his body still demanding that he stay and have his fun now.

He reluctantly climbed out of bed and made for his pile of clothes still lying on the floor. He'd have to stop at his dorm and change before heading down. When he was dressed, he grabbed his bag off the couch and slung it over his shoulder.

"Wait," Draco called before he made it to the window. "I was wondering if I could borrow the map and invisibility cloak? I know I said spying was beneath me, but Hermione did have a point. I want to try and figure out what our two favorite people are up to before it bites us in the ass."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Harry replied, a smile lighting up his face with excitement. He pulled the items in question out of his bag and handed them to Draco, regretting that he wouldn't get to join in on the little adventure.

"Good luck," Harry called before leaping out of the window with a dazzling smile.

Ron was just heading out when Harry arrived at the dorms.

"Oi," Harry called out, attracting the red-head's attention. "Let's meet up after breakfast; there's a lot we need to talk about."

Ron looked like he wanted to turn him down.

"I don't think you're crazy," Harry supplied, hoping to coax the boy into meeting with him. "Draco is intentionally messing with your head."

"I know I'm not crazy," Ron replied, a sour expression on his face.

"Then you'll meet with me?" Harry inquired hopefully.

"I'll think about it," he grumbled, continuing on his way to the Great Hall.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Breakfast wasn't nearly as fun as their last two meals. Harry was distracted and kept glancing down the table to check that Ron hadn't left yet, which of course made him an almost impossible person to hold a conversation with. Hermione was nose-deep in another book, only looking up briefly to inquire as to how they were doing before returning to it and not saying another thing.

Draco was glad when it was finally over. The silence had given him plenty of time to think about his plans for the day and he was starting to get a little excited at the prospect of spying on his fellow Slytherins - not that he'd ever admit that.

"See you later," Harry announced, his eyes tracking the red-head as he moved to intercept.

Draco didn't attempt to respond as he was certain that Harry wouldn't hear it. Without bothering to interrupt Hermione's love affair with her book, Draco slunk back to his dorm room to grab the cloak and map and begin working.

Pansy and Nott were still in the Great Hall when he left and he was eager to get back to them. Throwing the cloak over himself and checking the map, his breath caught in his throat when he realized that they were on the move, the thrill of the chase coursing through him as he planned out his route.

They didn't appear to be returning to the Common Room, which would have been his first thought. Instead, they were walking out towards the courtyard, following the path that Harry must have taken with Ron not ten minutes earlier. His blood froze in his veins at the thought that Harry might be in trouble and he quickened his pace.

When he arrived at the courtyard, another boy had just appeared. His name, according to the map, was Malcolm Baddock

"Potter and Weasley are taking a walk around the lake," the boy informed them. "They should be heading back in this direction within the next ten minutes."

"Pity," Pansy replied with a note of disappointment. "I was hoping it would be Draco with him instead, but I suppose that disgusting muggle-lover will do. There'll be plenty of time to have our fun with Draco after we're through."

"I've already let them know that Potter's on the grounds," Nott added. "They're standing by and awaiting our signal. I'll set it off when I catch sight of him."

"And you're sure it will work?" Pansy inquired nervously.

"With how much it cost us, it better. I was assured that it would disrupt the magical wards for at least five minutes. That should be plenty of time for them to apparate in, grab him, and go."

Draco's heart was fluttering wildly in his chest, his limbs frozen in fear at what he'd just overheard - they were going to kidnap Harry. He had to warn him, but he couldn't will his body to move. Every time that he tried, he remembered that he'd have to cross a large patch of unmelted snow - his footprints would be an obvious giveaway.

"I guess we should go take our positions now," Nott suggested. "We've got another 5 minutes or so before I need to set it off. I'm counting on you two to keep the teachers occupied."

The three split up, providing Draco with the perfect opportunity to make his escape. There wasn't enough time for him to get a teacher. He'd just have to make it to Harry first...and then... they'd figure something out.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"I don't want to be friends with him. I don't want to be nice to him. I don't want anything to do with him!" Ron exclaimed in frustration, his voice getting progressively louder as he went. "I honestly don't know what you see in him!"

"Funny you should say that," Harry remarked with a smirk. "Draco said the same thing about you, but I got him to agree to be civil so long as you will do the same. I'm not expecting either of you to be friends. I just don't want you to force me to choose. That kind of choice would break me."

Ron stopped dead in his tracks, a pained expression on his face. "Because you'd choose him?" he tentatively inquired.

Harry studied the grounds of Hogwarts in the distance, bright green early spring grass contrasting against the rapidly melting snow. He was lost in thought as he contemplated how he should answer that question. His heart was screaming Draco's name, but his head was arguing against throwing away a lengthy friendship over someone who until very recently had been their enemy.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "It hurts to even think about."

Ron brushed past him without a word and continued along the path.

"I don't -"

"- trust him, I know," Harry interrupted, cutting off Ron's gripe before he could finish. "But I do."

"How can you?"

"I just do," Harry replied. "Last week, after that incident in the Forbidden Forest, he was so distraught that he asked to take The Oath of the Star-Crossed Lovers with me."

Ron sucked in a shocked breath. "You didn't?"

"Of course not," Harry protested.

Ron let out a relieved sigh and they continued walking in awkward silence for most of the trip.

When they rounded the final bend, Ron stopped, studying Harry intently. "You really do like him?" he questioned. "It's not just guilt or... something else."

"I know it sounds mental," Harry replied with a slight blush coloring his cheeks, "but he makes me unbelievably happy. I can't even explain it."

Ron nodded his assent. "I'll try to keep my glaring to a minimum, but I will not play friendly with him."

It was the best he was going to get from him. He secretly hoped that with time, Ron would come to appreciate his charms, but this was enough for now. He pulled his best friend into a warm hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"Hey man, I'm taken," Ron grumbled, a smile tugging at his lips when he could no longer maintain his posturing. "Should I tell Hermione you're trying to steal her man?"

Harry let out a warm chuckle, releasing the hug and backing away in mirth. "I'd rather you not. She scares the hell out of me sometimes."

"That's what makes her sexy," Ron replied.

They both continued on their way back to the castle in much better spirits, but that feeling was short-lived. As they were ascending the slope that led to the castle, his ears suddenly popped, the world lurching as a silent explosion rumbled through his chest. In a daze, he blinked a few times to clear his vision.

"Harry!" a far-away voice screamed. "Watch out!"

He looked up to see Draco's panicked face as he tore down the slope towards them. There was a flash of red and green from somewhere behind Harry. Draco looked surprised, his body tipping forward to roll down the slope. With a sickening crack, his head made contact with one of the many boulders jutting up from the ground, a splash of red against the green and white landscape.

Harry rushed to his side, his mind singularly focused as he closed the distance. He was briefly aware of the fact that Ron wasn't following, could hear him grunting as he traded magical blows with someone or several someones, but that didn't seem to matter to him at the moment.

Almost there, Harry heard a loud cracking sound from close by. Rough arms took hold of him from behind, preventing him from getting to Draco.

"No, let go of me! I have to..." he screamed, struggling against the arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Draco was lying face up in the snowy grass, his silvery eyes reflecting the clouds overhead. It seemed so wrong somehow – this beautiful early spring day and Draco's unmoving body lying there, blood spattered across the field. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Nothing felt real.

The world spun abruptly, compressing and swirling, pushing the air from his lungs. His mind sluggishly realized that he was being apparated, but there was nothing that he could do to stop it. They arrived in a dark, unfamiliar room with stone walls - a prison cell.

" _Stupefy_ ," an unknown voice intoned and Harry's world disappeared into nothingness.


	51. Broken

Ron was desperately throwing curses back at their hooded attackers. Harry was completely useless, his eyes stuck on Draco as the boy tumbled. Without warning, he took off up the slope, ignoring the battle and Ron and everything else. There was nothing that Ron could do to stop him. It took everything he had just to keep himself from dying.

A loud crack caused him to turn momentarily in Harry's direction. One of their attackers had apparated behind Harry, grabbing him, and disappearing. The other two took that as their cue to leave, one of them apparating to Draco's fallen body to scoop him up and disappear as well.

Ron screamed in impotent fury, his whole body trembling as he stood alone in an empty field.

Shaking off his anger and frustration, he tore up the slope and into the Great Hall, heading straight for the Faculty Table. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout were still there, their eyes widening in surprise at his sweaty and flustered appearance.

"They've taken him," he cried out. "They've taken Harry."

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry awoke on a cold stone floor, his mind foggy, his body aching as if he had been beaten. There was a coppery taste in his mouth - blood. He had no recollection of why that would be. He tried to pull his fragmented thoughts together, but his brain refused to function. A sudden vision of Draco lying motionless in the snow struck him - his worst fear finally realized. He curled in on himself, broken sobs wracking his small frame.

"Oh no," the frighteningly familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange taunted, "little baby Potter is crying. Why is the baby crying?"

White-hot anger temporarily displaced his grief, pushing all other thoughts except his want to kill her to the side.

"YOU!" he exclaimed heatedly, lunging for her throat.

She nailed him with a Cruciatus Curse when he was just a few feet away from her. The pain of it unexpectedly took him to his knees, tightening its grip until he could hardly breathe. He looked up at her, his vision blurring with tears.

"Now, now, now," she scolded. "That wasn't very nice. It's bad manners to attack your host. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

"Just die already," he choked out through gritted teeth, his muscles locked tight against the agony tearing through him, his eyes burning with hate as he gazed at the woman who had taken two people he loved from him.

She smiled at him, a crazed gleam dancing in her eyes. "Is the little baby mad that his little birdy died? Does he want to kill me?"

He glared back at her in stubborn defiance, his jaw locked tight and body trembling.

She shivered in delight. "I'm going to have fun breaking you. The Dark Lord has asked me personally to make you his loyal pet."

"Never," he spat.

She leaned in close, the strength of her magical hold on him increasing until trembling, he collapsed to his side as fire burned through him. He was trying to scream, to breathe, but couldn't. He maintained a vision of killing her until he finally lost consciousness, her last couple of words chasing after him into the abyss.

"Never? We'll just see about that."

<<<<<    >>>>>

It was a while before he remembered where he was. With no windows in sight, he had no way of knowing what time it was. The grumbling of his stomach gave him some indication that it was much later in the day, but it could have been a few days later for all he knew.

Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he shifted into a sitting position. If there had been more light in the room, he was certain that he would find that he was covered in bruises. Someone must have been very angry with him when he was first brought in.

When Bellatrix finally arrived, he glared daggers at her. "What have you done with Draco?" he demanded.

She smiled, her eyes burning brightly. "Didn't I tell you already? The little birdie is dead. If Nott's killing curse hadn't done the job, that nasty fall certainly would have. Thought he could fly, he did. My dear sister is beside herself."

"You're lying," he accused, hoping that she was, but knowing deep down inside that she wasn't. Sirius had warned him this day would come. He'd been foolish to think he could somehow prevent it.

She answered him with a twisted smile that said it all.

He was confronted with the realization that Draco really was gone. Nothing Bellatrix could do to him could match the pain of his loss, the knowledge that he would never hold Draco in his arms again. It tore through him, worse than any agony he could imagine. He just wanted to die.

Unable to live with the guilt, he begged her to kill him.

"That won't do," she cooed softly. "The Dark Lord wants to keep you alive. It's time you learned your place in this world."

She shuddered in pleasure as she turned the Cruciatus Curse on him. Every nerve in his body was seared with razor-sharp, burning misery. He collapsed to the floor, his arms clutching his abdomen as he curled in on himself. It did nothing to ease the pain. His whole world was nothing but endless pain. It wasn't long before he was screaming in agony, begging her to stop.

When the pain finally lifted, he couldn't stop the tears that came pouring from his eyes. Somewhere along the lines, he'd lost his will to fight. Hopelessness closed in around him, suffocating him. What was the point of it all really? Draco was gone.

"Now what do you have to say?" she demanded.

He peered up at her, frightened and confused, not understanding what it was she was asking of him.

"Thank you, Mistress," she spat, gripping his hair and lifting his head so that she could get a better view of his face. "Thank you for teaching me. Now you try it."

He nodded, tears still rolling down his face as he repeated what she had said. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to be left alone in his misery. He was desperately tired of being in pain. Desperately tired of existing.

"Why thank you," she replied in a sing-song voice. "But I don't think I'm done teaching you. No, not nearly done I'm afraid. You still have a long way to go before you're ready to serve him."

She summoned a set of manacles and tossed them down in front of him. "Put those on," she commanded coldly.

He wasted no time, pushing through the pain of his aching body to do as he was instructed with shaking hands. She pulled down a hook from the beam above, attaching it to the chain between his wrists, and then cranked some apparatus until he was lifted up, the toes of his feet just barely touching the stone below. He felt helpless and exposed. It seemed worse somehow.

"You'll come to learn in time that a wand can be used for a great many things," she whispered affectionately. "Like this."

She dragged the wand across his chest, bright red blood welling up behind its path to soak through his t-shirt. In irritation, she vanished his shirt so that she could see him better. She ran her rough tongue over his fresh wound, causing him to gasp in surprise at the shocking pain of it. Her eyes were half-closed as she stood, licking her lips in apparent ecstasy.

She stopped to study him, circling around him with a mad and reckless gleaming in her eyes.

"Or this," she cried suddenly, thrusting her wand into his side, the concentrated power at the tip of it slamming into one of his ribs with a sickening crack as it broke. He cried out in pain, struggling to take slow shallow breaths in order to ease his suffering.

She continued showing him the things that she could do, circling around him to poke and prod, slash and stab. His teeth ached from gritting them, his throat raw from screaming. He lost all notion of time, his whole world engulfed in pain and suffering. He knew, without any doubt in his mind, that she would break him - eventually. Just like she had broken Neville's parents.

He took everything that he was and retreated deep within, leaving just a shadow of himself behind as he hid himself away in a closet under the stairs that he envisioned in his mind. A closet that was safe and secure, where no one ever bothered to enter. A place where he could hide forever.

"I think that's enough for today," she cheerfully announced. "It's getting late and we have an early day tomorrow. There's so much more I have to teach you."

He'd long ago stopped trying to support himself, simply hanging limp, the weight of his body cutting painfully into his wrists, sweat and blood trailing down his shivering body. When she released the tension on his chains, he collapsed without even attempting to break his fall.

"Stand," she commanded.

He didn't think himself capable of moving, but when she motioned him up with her wand, the mere sight of it made him do as she wanted. With a satisfied smile, she left the room, locking the door behind her.

It was then that he realized that she hadn't told him how long he was expected to stand. His whole body felt heavy with pain, incapable of keeping him on his feet for much longer. He knew that this was a test and he knew that he would fail it. Giving up, he collapsed into a heap on the ground and was sound asleep within seconds.

<<<<<   >>>>>

He discovered that being awakened by the Cruciatus Curse was a terror all its own. His back arched suddenly, fresh blood spilling from reopened wounds along his chest.

"The little baby fell asleep without asking permission," Bellatrix taunted, cranking the wheel so that he was suddenly lifted off the ground again. His shoulders ached in protest at returning to that position, but it was made trivial by the pain coursing through him. His muscles felt as if they were being shredded, his bones shattering.

"Please, Mistress," he begged, "Please stop it." He realized he was crying, but he didn't care. He only wanted the pain to stop.

She smiled at him in pleasure, a hand caressing his cheek. His pain lifted, but he couldn't stop crying, desperate needy sobs wracking his body.

"I love it when they cry," she remarked before lapping up the tears on his face and smiling in pleasure at the taste.

She circled around behind and he felt his body tense in apprehension, expecting the pain of her wand to strike him any second. Just as he was beginning to relax she struck dead center at his lower back. Lightning burned a path down the nerves of his legs, causing them to twitch and give out. The weight of his body came crashing down onto his manacled wrists, agitating the wounds that were already forming there from yesterday. He let out a haggard wail that echoed through the room long after he had stopped screaming.

Pleased with the effect, she circled around and prodded his already broken rib, eliciting an agonized scream from his chapped and bloodied lip.

Time slipped away as she continued to torture him, each new scream or whimper lighting up her face in excitement. She didn't seem to tire of her sport, trying out different ways and different locations with the rapt attention of a child watching their favorite TV show.

By midday he was delirious with exhaustion, slipping in and out of consciousness despite the pain. She seemed frustrated by this and pouted as she lowered him back to the ground.

"Sleep," she commanded petulantly. "You can eat when you wake up."

He tried to remember when he'd last eaten, but the memory seemed hazy - attached to some distant life that he no longer felt connected to. Food sounded nice, but so did sleep. He didn't bother to move from the position he had landed in, his eyes closing before Bellatrix had even left the room.


	52. Misery

Draco's head was pounding. Unsure of the reasons why, he carefully opened his eyes and took in the startlingly familiar setting of his room in Malfoy Manor, still exactly as it had been when he had left it several months ago. He couldn't remember how it was that he had come to be here. He rolled over with a moan, his stomach lurching as a dizzying sensation overcame him.

"Oh, you're awake," his mother exclaimed. Somehow he hadn't noticed her sitting there next to his bed. "Try not to move, you took a nasty blow to the head. We've healed it up as best as we can, but it will still be a while before you feel up to doing much of anything."

"How?" he croaked, his throat dry.

"Your Aunt Bellatrix hit you with a stunning spell before Nott's killing curse could get you. Unfortunately, you took a bit of a tumble. She brought you here right after. Everyone thinks you're dead."

"Harry?" he questioned, his raspy voice sounding harsh to his ears.

She frowned in disapproval, her lips tightly pursed. "You needn't worry about him. Your Aunt Bellatrix is taking good care of him."

Icy cold fear shot through his veins - he knew what that meant. He needed to worry about him, he needed to worry a lot. He tried to get out of bed, his vision blurring as his head spun.

"You need your rest," his mother warned, leaning over to push him back down into his bed before picking up a small glass off the nightstand and handing it to him. "Drink this." With her help he downed the drink, noting in alarm towards the end the familiar after-taste of dreamless sleep potion. Before he could protest, he was succumbing to its effects, the world slowly fading into darkness.

<<<<<     >>>>>

His head wasn't throbbing nearly as badly when he next woke up and his thoughts seemed more coherent. He had to assume that Pansy's plan had been a success or else he would have awakened in the Infirmary instead. His heart felt like it was being crushed - he'd tried so hard to get to Harry in time.

The distant screams of someone in an unimaginable amount of pain startled him from his misery. It was Harry. He jumped out of bed, his head spinning briefly as he stumbled to his bedroom door. It was locked. A desperate feeling overwhelmed him, his need to save Harry overtaking all other thoughts. Frantically, he began pounding on the door, screaming with everything he had until his fists were bloodied and his voice was raw, tears streaming down his face.

The door opened suddenly and he stumbled forward briefly, scrambling to keep upright so that he could make a break for it.

"That's enough," his mother snapped, her tone of voice freezing him in his tracks out of habit. "You should be in bed."

He ignored her, shaking off his momentary surprise to trudge down the hall in Harry's direction. His legs felt weak and the hallway kept slipping sideways, but he couldn't stop - Harry needed him.

"Draco," his mother shouted in a commanding voice, "for once in your life, will you just listen to me and get back in bed."

He placed a steadying hand against the wall to help him stay on his feet and continued, Harry's screams drawing him further down the hall.

" _Stupefy_ ," his mother cried out in anguish.

The spell struck him, dropping him to his knees as he struggled in vain to remain conscious - to get to Harry.

<<<<<     >>>>>

The next time he opened his eyes, she was sitting in the chair beside his bed, her eyes red and puffy, her pale face blotchy from crying. He sat up suddenly as his memories solidified, tearing off the covers and making a mad dash for the door.

"Please," she begged brokenly. "You can't save him."

He stopped, turning to stubbornly face her. "I don't care. I'll never stop trying - until my dying breath."

She stood abruptly, closing the distance between them with a heartbroken expression on her face.

"You foolish child," she cried, striking him across the cheek with her dainty hand. "We thought we were saving you when we disowned you, giving you a chance to make your own choices. Why'd you have to go and throw it all away? Why'd you step right back into the fray? You could have lived a life free from all of this."

"Because I love him," he whispered back, choking back a sob as he realized that he'd never told Harry that. He'd said it in other ways, but never just those three simple words -  _I love you_. He'd give anything to have Harry back in his arms, safe and sound. He'd whisper those words until his voice ran out, until forever.

"I know," she sobbed, resting her face against his chest in anguish, her hands desperately clawing at his shirt. "But there's nothing we can do. You have to let him go."

"I can't."

He pushed her away gently and made for the door once more. He heard a rustle of fabric from behind him as his mother turned her wand on him.

"Please don't make me do this," she pleaded, her voice unnaturally strained.

A renewed round of haggard screaming echoed through the manor and he ran for it, chasing after the source. When he was half-way down the hall, her stunning spell hit him, sending him crashing to the floor. He tried desperately to crawl forward, his vision slowly fading out.

<<<<<     >>>>>

The first thing he did when he woke up was try for the door. Unsurprisingly, he found it locked. He pounded and screamed for what felt like hours, but no one came. Occasionally, he'd catch the sound of hiccuping sobs through the door and with renewed vigor he'd scream for his mother to let him out. The sobs would intensify, but still, no one came.

He tried the window and fireplace, tried throwing furniture at them - all to no avail. He was locked tight, unable to escape, unable to get to Harry whose piteous cries haunted him even when he was silent. The silence felt worse somehow - left him wondering if Harry was okay, if he was dead.

When food finally appeared in his room, he threw it against the wall in a rage, fuming at the very notion of it. His stomach protested his decision, but he ignored it, falling backwards into his bed to stare in desolation at the ceiling.

Time lost all meaning, just a blur of days stretching out endlessly to the backdrop of Harry's screaming, his voice always giving out long before the day was through. Sometimes he slept, sometimes he ate, often he did neither.

One day he found some of his old art supplies and lacking paper, had sketched image after image of Harry upon every barren section of wall. When he awoke the next morning it was all gone, his room returned as it always was to pristine condition. He did it again and again with a sense of crazed determination until he no longer had anything left to work with, his pencil just a tiny useless nub that was too small to hold.

On days when he felt up to it, he would trash his room, smashing furniture against walls and doors. He'd break pictures and vases and expensive art pieces. He'd tear the curtains off the window and scream until his voice was hoarse. It would always set itself back as he slept, reminding him that nothing he did was enough, that no matter how hard he tried his efforts were futile.

Most days, he didn't bother leaving his bed, instead choosing to close his eyes and let the sounds of Harry's agony wash over him.

When he could take it no more, he smashed one of the pictures on his wall and retrieved a jagged piece of glass. He pressed it deep into the flesh of his wrist and cut downward, bright red blood pouring down to drip off his fingertips and onto the floor. He watched in fascination as it pooled beneath him, mildly shocked by how much of it there was before he started to finally feel woozy. He stumbled and lost his balance, collapsing to the floor next to the pool of his own blood.

He awoke the next day with only the tiniest bit of a headache, his wrist completely mended, and the blood all gone. Just like everything else in his room, he had been returned to his previous condition overnight.

He tried it several more times with the same effect. He'd never in his life felt so useless, so helpless, so beyond any sense of hope. It was maddening. He felt his sanity slipping as the days became weeks and the weeks became months. There was no escaping his misery.


	53. I Need a Hero

" _Lumos_ ," Narcissa whispered, stepping further into Harry's cell to get a better look at him. She gasped in surprise as a filthy lump on the ground looked up at her with haunted emerald eyes. He trembled in fear at the mere sight of her wand, a choking sob escaping from him.

"What's the matter?" she questioned, holding back a sob of her own as she watched the broken child that had been screaming in her dungeon for several weeks now scramble away from her.

"Please don't do this," he begged, his breathing becoming frantic, terror eating away any semblance of thought.

Tears stung at her eyes and she blinked them away quickly, crossing over to him with slow, deliberate steps.

"It's okay," she assured him. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just here to give you a bath."

That wasn't what she had originally intended, but the smell in his cell was overpowering and it was the only thing of comfort that came to mind - a nice warm bath always made her feel more human.

With the help of several of the house elves, she had a tub full of warm water set up in his cell and had directed the elves to begin cleaning up while she bathed him.

"Get in," she commanded. He hesitated for only a moment, his eyes wide and fearful like a spooked animal, before he made his way to the tub. She had to remind him to undress when he tried to climb in with his clothes still on. His hands were trembling as he worked the button on his pants. With a sigh, she reached over to help him, tossing his clothes to the side with every intention of burning them.

He hissed in pain as his wounds made contact with the hot soapy water, but he didn't stop. Soon the water was thick with blood and dirt. She had the house elves switch out the water three more times before she was finally satisfied that he was clean enough, her gentle scrubbing slowly revealing the boy under all the filth. He hardly looked alive, skin pale, scars and wounds criss-crossing over his arms and torso, his ribs poking out in sharp contrast.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He turned to stare at her in wonder and she took that to mean yes. She held up a towel to dry him off and commanded the house elves to bring her a change of clothes and some food for them.

After putting on clean clothes, he tore ravenously into his meal, taking it with him into the corner as if terrified it would be snatched away.

When he was done, she waved him over so that she could begin the arduous task of working the tangles out of his hair. He didn't hesitate this time, wincing briefly as he sat down on the ground in front of her.

Humming softly to herself, she got to work. By the time she was halfway through, she had almost given up, frustrated with the wild unruly mess on the top of his head, but she kept at it, trying in her own small way to make amends for her involvement in his plight.

His hair tamed as well as it could be, she glanced around at his cell, smiling at all that she had accomplished - clean cell, clean Harry, and a slightly cleaner conscience.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a thick feeling in his mouth letting him know that he'd been drugged. It wasn't the first time for sure and he doubted it would be the last. This was, however, the first time that he had been moved to another location while drugged.

He glanced around at the hideous rustic furniture and wood paneling, instantly recognizing it as one of the cabins they kept as a safe house.

There was a note waiting for him on the kitchen table.

_Dearest Draco,_

_I am sorry we had to move you so abruptly. We received word that the Ministry is conducting searches. It will only be for the week and then I promise we will come get you._

_Love Always,_

_Your Mother_

He crumbled it up and threw it against the wall, furious that she could even keep deluding herself into thinking there was any love between them.

Knowing it would be useless, he tried the doors and windows anyway. They were all locked and warded. He wondered vaguely if this place would repair itself just as his room did. It was then that he decided to trash the place just to see. It wasn't like he had anything better to do and he was sure it would irritate his mother.

When he had broken everything that was in his power to break, he collapsed in exhaustion, ignoring the food that had magically appeared on the floor beside him.

By the end of the week, he was desperate to be back home. He had thought he hated hearing Harry's screams, but at least then he knew he was still alive, at least then there was the smallest glimmer of hope. Here, with only the occasional birdsong and chirping of crickets, he found himself wondering more and more about Harry and if he was okay. It was absurd of him to miss his screams.

<<<<<    >>>>>

"Get up," Mistress barked in irritation, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of his clean appearance as he stood. "I see my sister has come to visit again."

"Yes, Mistress," Harry whispered, hoping he wasn't getting the woman in trouble. He liked her a lot. The way she looked and even her scent seemed vaguely familiar to him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt safe with her.

"As much as it pains me to see all my hard work hidden away, I suppose the Dark Lord wouldn't care for the assault on his senses."

She poked him in the ribs experimentally, a grin lighting up her face when he cried out in pain and fell to his knees.

"We're going to see him today - my Master," she chirped happily. "And you're going to answer all his questions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," he panted, standing up once more.

He followed behind her, his eyes fixed on her back as they walked down the hallway and out into a waiting carriage. He dared not glance at the countryside rolling by and kept his eyes firmly fixed on his hands which were folded on his lap.

It was nightfall when they finally arrived, a dimly lit mansion appearing from the gloom as they walked from the drive to the front door. She didn't bother knocking, just opened the door and made her way to a study off to the left as if she owned the place. She may have.

Alarm bells were going off in his head, something deep down inside screaming at him to run, but he was terrified of what Mistress would do to him if he disobeyed. He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and followed dutifully behind, his eyes once again fixed on her back as they moved and then the floor when they finally came to a stop inside the study.

"Ah, my beautiful Bella," a raspy voice hissed. He struggled not to look up, struggled to keep his eyes on the ground, struggled to remember how to breathe. "What present have you brought me today?"

"A new pet," she purred. "Although I daresay he needs a little more training first."

His eyes pulled up slightly to land on a pair of men's black dress shoes that began to step closer to him.

"Wonderful," the voice hissed. "Your work never ceases to amaze me."

"What questions would you ask of him?" she inquired casually. He noticed her stiffen next to him before she stepped back slightly as if in fear. He glanced up and caught sight of murderous red eyes boring into her. The man's face was ugly - tiny slits for a nose and no hair on his head. He was both hideous and frightening. He felt like he should know this man, his fear seemed instinctual and deep-seated. He dropped his eyes back to the floor to relieve the panicky feeling that was building up in him.

"I will leave the two of you alone," Mistress whispered before stepping away and heading towards the door.

It seemed absurd, but he wanted to beg her to stay, to not leave him alone with this frightening man. As if sensing his feelings, Mistress turned to face him at the door, her voice firm and commanding.

"Do as he asks - answer all of his questions. If you fail me, expect to be punished severely. I have been playing nice with you so far because you are my favorite. Don't disappoint me."

He bit back a whimper of fear, nodding his understanding as she finally left the room - left him with that monster.

"Such a magnificent woman," the man remarked, his raspy voice sounding harsh and unnatural. "So loyal and so talented."

He nodded his agreement, hesitant to do anything else.

"For now, I only have one question to ask - what does the prophecy about us say?"

<<<<<    >>>>>

Two months had passed, the end of term was almost upon them and yet no one had been able to find out where Harry had been taken. The Ministry had conducted a few futile searches that had resulted in zero leads. Ron felt hopelessly sick with worry, wondering where his friend could be and what could be happening to him. He'd never felt more useless in his whole entire life. If the roles were reversed he was certain Harry would have already figured something out, but he was at a loss. What could he do that The Ministry and The Order hadn't already done?

"There's been another attack," Hermione announced, setting down the paper so she could look him in the eyes while he poked at his breakfast in disinterest. "They wiped out a small muggle village. More than one-hundred people dead."

Ron took in a deep steadying breath, his anger bubbling just below the surface. It felt like he was always angry lately. The slightest thing set him off and he found his knuckles in a perpetually bloody state from all the walls he had assaulted.

"This is the tenth attack this month," Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "And the month has only just started."

Last month, a muggle village had been attacked out of the blue, leaving the wizarding world shocked. Since then, the Death Eaters weren't even trying to hide their activity. Ron suspected that it had something to do with Harry, that somehow Voldemort had learned what was really in the prophecy. It worried him to think about what it would have taken to drag that secret out of him. He felt sick just thinking about it.

Hermione was studying him with fearful eyes, begging him for some reassurance, but he had none to give. The first couple of weeks after Harry had disappeared, she had spent most of her time crying. Admittedly, he'd done a bit of crying himself. Now, they were both past the point of tears, lost in fearful wonderings, helplessness clawing at them. Everything felt like it took too much effort, like it was pointless. He had no reassurances to give her because he had lost all hope. Everything had gone disastrously wrong.

"I know, Hermione," he grumbled. "I know."

"Why isn't The Ministry doing anything? They lost their Chosen One. What are they waiting for now?" she cried.

"I know," he grumbled, irritation rising up in him.

"If they don't start ramping things up soon, more people are going to die."

"I KNOW!" he finally shouted.

She blinked at him in surprise, her mouth agape. Several other Gryffindors turned to stare at them.

Ron sheepishly bowed his head. "I'm sorry I screamed at you," he apologized. "I'm just tired of hearing about things I can't fix...so tired of  _everything_."

Hermione's face turned sympathetic as she studied him. "Me too," she whispered, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing it gently. "I really miss him."


	54. A True and Loyal Friend

"I can't live like this!" Narcissa shrieked. "Our son, locked up, wasting away. A child being tortured in our dungeon!"

Lucius studied his wife, no longer surprised by her hysterical fits. Her tender heart was being ripped to shreds at the role they were forced to play, at the role he had forced them into to curry favor with the Dark Lord.

"Come here, my darling," he soothed, pulling her into a tight embrace, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. "It won't be forever. We just have to bear this heartache for a little while longer. Draco will come to his senses eventually and  _that boy_  will be handed over to the Dark Lord - permanently."

She started to sob in earnest then, clutching at him desperately as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. He gently stroked her hair, making soft shushing noises to comfort her, but nothing seemed to be working.

"That poor boy," she wailed suddenly, startling him. "If we hand him over, Draco will never forgive us. He'd rather die than be parted from him. I can see it in his eyes. It would kill him."

Lucius let out a frustrated sigh, his heart torn over the heartbreak he was causing his wife and his need to keep his family safe. "You know what it is that you are asking of me, asking of this family?" he whispered quietly, strangely fearful of being overheard. "If we save them, we'll be on the run. We'll have to give everything up - leave it all behind. There's no turning back."

"I know," she cried, her eyes full of tears of desperation. "But I can't live like this."

"Okay," he replied, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'll make the arrangements. You talk to Draco; have him take Farren too. It will be safer for them both to be under Severus' protection."

She smiled up at him and he was shocked to realize that this was the first smile he'd seen from her in over a year. He hadn't realized how much he missed her smile until just now. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, not wanting to do anything that would erase that smile. For once in his life, he was certain he was making the right decision.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco was shocked when he heard the sound of his bedroom door opening and even more shocked at the drawn and pale appearance of his mother. They had always looked strikingly similar and it seemed that similarity stuck with them even in heartache.

"What do you want?" he grumbled in irritation when the shock had finally worn off.

"I have something important to discuss with you," she replied, her words sounding breathy and unsure. "We have a plan - a plan for you and Farren to escape."

His heart fluttered a bit at the word 'escape' but it was short-lived. She'd said nothing about saving Harry. "Good try," he snarled. "But I'm not leaving here without Harry."

"I know," she whispered morosely, a sad look in her eyes. "I just worry that you won't like what you find. He's not really the boy you knew anymore. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

His chest felt suddenly very tight. He was well aware of what Aunt Bellatrix was capable of, but he had held out hope for some sort of miracle, held out hope that Harry would be stronger than that. It was a foolish thought. Reality came crashing down upon him, burdening him suddenly with the painful truth of their situation.

"I don't care about that," he cried. "I have to save him. Even if...even if he's...even..."

Tears began to well up at the thought, a painful lump in his throat choking off his words. It might be hopeless, but he had to try. His mother wrapped him in a fierce hug, the scent of lily of the valley strong in the air around them both.

"He won't trust you at first," she warned. "Keep your wand hidden and offer him food. If he starts to scream, you'll have to stun him. We'll need to be quick. Your father is making the arrangements as we speak. Please eat a good meal and be ready to leave tonight. I'll bring Farren to your room and the both of you will make your way to the dungeon to retrieve Harry. If my sister catches you..." she paused her frantic instructions to shudder. "Well, just make sure that doesn't happen."

<<<<<    >>>>>

Someone was messing with the lock on his cell door. His mistress wouldn't have had so much trouble with it, so it must have been her sister. He sat up expectantly, his eyes fixed on the door. She had already been by to bathe and feed him, so he didn't exactly know why it was that she was coming back.

Three people stumbled unexpectedly through the door and he scrambled back in fear, a soft whine starting at the back of his throat.

"It's okay, Harry," a boy that kind of looked like Mistress' sister said. "I brought you something to eat."

He watched in apprehension as the boy approached, the two smaller ones hanging back by the door. His chest felt tight with fear, worried that this was a test, worried that he might be failing it. Tears of hopelessness pricked at his eyes until the boy was close enough that he could smell him. He smelled like Mistress' sister - a smell that seemed to instantly calm him.

"Here," the boy whispered, handing over a dinner roll. "Eat this."

He snatched it out of the boy's hand and hid himself in the shadows of his cell so that he could eat it without fear, his eyes never leaving the three of them.

"If Harry Potter is hungry," the ugliest one with large eyes and floppy ears squeaked, "then he can have more food. Does Harry Potter like that?"

He looked strikingly similar to the other ones that his Mistress' sister often brought with her. He nodded in excitement, stepping out of the shadows to get more food, but as he approached, he noted that there wasn't any food in his hands. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Just take our hands and you can have all the food in the world," the boy who had fed him coaxed eagerly.

Harry started to back away then. Something about this didn't seem right.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway seemed to startle the blond boy. He hastily pulled out his wand and turned to the door, backing slowly away and gesturing for the other two to get behind him.

At the sight of the wand, he let out a low moan, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. The boy turned on him unexpectedly, his eyes going wide with fear as he gazed at him.

" _Stupefy_ ," the blond boy whispered. He frowned in confusion at the words before he was struck by a small blow to his chest. His body suddenly went out on him, his traitorous eyes closing just as he saw the boy move to catch him.

"Hurry up, Dobby. You too Farren. Just grab hold of him and...," the boy half-whispered, his words fading away as his mind betrayed him to the abyss.

<<<<<    >>>>>

The four of them disapparated just as Aunt Bellatrix appeared in the doorway. He could have died of relief as they were twisted and contorted, stretched and then crushed, before finally stumbling to their feet in the middle of the Great Hall. It was quite late and the hall was empty.

He wasn't entirely sure who he should go to first - Professor Snape or Headmaster Dumbledore? He honestly hadn't thought things out this far, which was very un-Slytherin of him, but he wasn't entirely sure that their plan would work. Nothing in his life ever went to plan, so why should this? It felt surreal.

"Dobby will be right back," the house elf announced, disappearing in an instant.

Before his trembling knees gave out on him, Draco guided Harry to the ground, resting his head on his lap and lovingly running his fingers through his messy black hair.

"Is that really Harry Potter?" Farren questioned, his silvery eyes wide as he surveyed the boy.

Draco brushed his bangs to the side, revealing the famous lightning-shaped scar. He lovingly traced his trembling fingers over it, almost not believing that he had Harry in his arms once more.

A loud crack startled him and his eyes instantly met with the Headmaster's. He felt such an intense sense of relief in seeing the man that he couldn't stop the tears that started pouring from his eyes. They had finally escaped, they were finally safe. Months of lonely misery and it was all finally over.

"Help me get them to the infirmary," Headmaster Dumbledore instructed, nodding his head in Dobby's direction.

A small hand gripped his arm and they were transported again.

He laughed suddenly and unexpectedly at the disapproving look on Madam Pomfrey's face, remembering out of the blue of a time when he had joked that the woman wouldn't be happy to see them back so soon. It was ridiculous that he should be laughing given the circumstances, but he couldn't stop it - the tears or the laughter. His emotions were all muddled.

"Let's get you boys to bed," she huffed, levitating Harry out of his arms.

Draco suddenly snapped back to reality, his eyes wide and frightened as he peered up at Madam Pomfrey.

"Harry's not quite himself," he warned. "You might want to tie him down so that he doesn't try to escape when he wakes up. He was left in Aunt Bellatrix's care."

Madam Pomfrey sucked in a shocked breath, her face going instantly pale. "Oh, you poor things," she cried, distressed tears welling up in her eyes as she moved to hug him. "You poor, poor things."

He found himself crying all over again, unending tears pouring down his face as the last few months finally sunk in. He clung to the woman in desperation, his whole body shaking as the emotional strain of it left him. He finally had Harry back, but maybe not entirely.


	55. Forever

A heart-wrenching scream tore away shrouds of sleep. Draco wasn't really surprised. He'd expected as much, expected that Harry would eventually wake up screaming. Harry struggled against the straps binding him, fighting to be released. "I need to get back... Mistress will be mad... Please, let me go," he begged through broken sobs.

Draco rushed over to comfort him. "Shhh. It's okay Harry. You're safe now. Aunt Bellatrix can't hurt you anymore."

Harry stared at him, wonder plainly written on his face as he settled down and stopped struggling. "You smell like her," he whispered suddenly.

"Like who?" Draco asked, thinking he might already know the answer.

"Like Mistress' sister and..." Harry trailed off, his brow drawn tight in confusion.

Draco grew hopeful, quietly thanking his mother for whatever it was she had done for him that had endeared him to her. His scent, their scent, seemed to have a calming effect on Harry.

Harry suddenly frowned, trying to pull away. "This has to be a trick," he stated apprehensively. "Please, I don't want to get in trouble... Let me go." He started struggling all over again, his wrists beginning to bleed as wounds reopened, his desperate screaming echoing around the room.

Madam Pomfrey rushed to his side, trying in vain to soothe him. Nothing they did had any effect. He kept screaming and crying until his voice was hoarse, until overcome by sheer terror, he shut down entirely, staring blankly at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

"Try food," Draco suggested, but Harry was too far gone to even recognize it.

Draco sat by his side, worry and fear nibbling away at him. Harry had to get better, he just had to. Draco couldn't bear to think about the alternative.

<<<<<    >>>>>

In secrecy, Harry had been transferred to St. Mungo's for specialized care. They were currently staying on a hidden floor between the sixth and seventh floor. Headmaster Dumbledore had arranged it so that Draco and Farren could stay there as well. It wasn't like they had anywhere else to go. A search by The Ministry of Malfoy Manor had turned up nothing. His parents had disappeared, presumably on the run from both sides now.

Farren was going stir-crazy, always getting insanely excited when Hermione and Ron came to visit. Ron always brought him sweets. Draco suspected they were actually for Harry, but since he spent most of his time staring off into space, there really was no point.

Ron was so forlorn when he came to visit that he never even bothered to glare at Draco anymore. It was upsetting to see him like that, but honestly he didn't have it in him to try to get a rise out of him.

Hermione looked just like how he felt - hopeless and miserable. She rarely spoke and when she did it was always useless pleasantries, not the insightful theories and realizations he had come to expect from her.

Hermione and Ron had just left and Farren was busying himself in the window, sketching the people he saw passing below. Out of boredom, Draco taught Farren everything he knew about drawing and it quickly became something the both of them did rather frequently to pass the time.

A sound attracted his attention. At first he thought it was the beginnings of a whimper and mentally prepared himself for another round of hysterical screaming, but the soft noise continued, taking on a form that Draco recognized. Harry was humming a lullaby, the same lullaby that his mother had sung for them. Farren turned, his eyes going wide in surprise as he recognized the familiar tune. It almost felt like she was there with them, offering them comfort.

Draco and Farren both started singing the words and Harry stopped humming, his eyes darting over to watch the two of them sing, a fragile smile appearing on his face.

As soon as they were done, his smile slipped away, his eyes glazing over vacantly. It still gave Draco hope.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry was hiding in his cupboard. As long as he stayed there, he was safe. No one dared enter. His uncle was too large, his aunt too fearful, and his cousin too lazy. It was a small cupboard, but it was all his.

He heard the soft sound of someone crying outside his door, but he was too afraid to look. It wasn't safe out there.

A while later, he heard singing - two voices seamlessly entwined. It almost broke his heart with how beautiful it sounded - full of love and longing. He wanted to join them, but it wasn't safe out there.

Once he heard talking and a child's laughter. He was curious, but he didn't dare leave as it wasn't safe out there.

Then one day, he heard an impossible voice whispering outside his door.

"Please, Harry, come back to me," it quietly begged. "You promised me forever."

He felt something pulling at his heart, coaxing him towards that voice, a voice that couldn't possibly be there. His body moved as if through thick mud, his mind screaming for him to stop. The door was stuck tight, refusing to open no matter how hard he struggled with it. His heart was screaming at him to get to that voice, but he couldn't get out. With a loud crack, the doorknob broke free, finally turning so that he could leave. He stepped through the door, reality crashing into view.

A blond boy was there, holding his hand, and desperately sobbing. He felt confused and afraid, wanting to retreat back to his cupboard, but a voice inside kept whispering to him, asking him to stay.

"Draco?" the voice supplied and he spoke the name aloud.

Silvery eyes shot up to stare into his own. There was a sound like shattering glass, thousands of visions of he and this boy and sparkling silver eyes burned painfully through his mind. He clutched at his head, screaming in agony against the rush of memories pressing in. His brain felt like it was on fire, his vision swam alarmingly, and finally cold darkness overcame him.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry had said his name, he had recognized him - maybe. But that was six days ago and he hadn't woken up since. He spent a lot of time tossing and turning, feverishly mumbling, but never came to. Draco had been so hopeful the first couple of days, but now he was back to worrying.

The Healers at St. Mungo's had never seen anything like it and had nothing useful to offer them, only that his psyche may be irreparably broken. It wasn't something Draco wanted to hear or believe. He refused to give up.

"Why do you care about him so much?" Farren questioned in genuine curiosity.

"I don't know why. He's reckless and stupid and we fight all the time, but he makes me feel alive, like I can be more than just what is expected of me," Draco explained, a soft smile on his face as he stared at Harry. "I have no idea why he loves me either or why he puts up with me. I guess we just work...somehow."

"He sounds fun," Farren replied thoughtfully. "I hope he gets better soon so we can play together."

"Me too."

<<<<<    >>>>>

Harry was lost, walking through a maze of mirrors all reflecting different aspects of himself. When he would touch one, his whole body would burn in agony, his head splitting open painfully, but after a while he felt better - more whole. The mirror would shatter then, sometimes revealing a new path, oftentimes just revealing the inky blackness of nothingness. With a sigh, he glanced around at endless rows of them, fearing the task that lie ahead of him in collecting these pieces of himself, but also fearing that he might be stuck there forever if he didn't continue. He fixed a vision of Draco waiting for him in his mind and pushed forward.

It wasn't long before he wanted to give up. He felt fragile and weak and so desperately alone. He reached for another mirror, his hands trembling, his body tensed in anticipation. Pain shot through him and slowly dissipated. This time when the mirror shattered it revealed a small boy with raven-black hair, huddled up and crying.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked in concern.

The boy glanced up, his face instantly recognizable as that of his younger self. "They won't let me go back to my Mistress," he sobbed. "I'll be punished if I don't return to her."

Harry frowned in confusion, unsure of what the boy was talking about. He reached out a hand to comfort him. The minute he made contact it was like being struck by lightning - visions of pain and suffering flowed into him. He instantly recognized this for what it was, closing himself off, slamming down a wall between himself and this boy.

"You need to get away," Harry whispered fearfully. "You can't be here. I know somewhere that you will be safe."

The boy resisted, clawing and fighting, refusing to comply, but Harry was stronger. He dragged the boy to his cupboard and threw him in.

"Stay here," he commanded. "No one will find you here."

With a grim expression, he closed the door and locked it tight before heading back to the mirrors with a little more resolve and a tremendous amount of guilt. He couldn't stay here a second longer than he had to. He needed to get away from here and get back where he belonged.

<<<<<    >>>>>

Draco watched as Harry tossed and turned, moaning as if in pain. His body stiffened suddenly, back arching off the bed and jaw tight. A growing sense of alarm and wonder overtook him. This was something different at least. Harry settled at last, his breathing evening out, and body relaxing. His eyes fluttered open, meeting his own in a purposeful manner. Draco felt his heart trembling in excitement.

"Harry?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Draco," Harry croaked back.

"How are you feeling?" Draco asked.

"Hurts," he replied, wincing a bit as he sat up. "And hungry."

Draco couldn't keep the grin off his face. This was Harry - complete and normal and aware. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but he was too happy to care.

"I love you," Draco blurted out, remembering suddenly that he needed to say those words aloud, needed Harry to know it in case this was just temporary.

Harry's eyes opened in surprise. "I - I love you too," he hesitantly replied, clearly unsure of what had brought this on all of a sudden.

"I never told you before. I thought I'd never get the chance," Draco explained.

Harry smiled at him, the warmth of it filling his eyes. "I was worried I wouldn't be able to get back to you either."

"How?"

"I don't honestly know," he explained. "It feels like I'm still dreaming."

<<<<<    >>>>>

Professor Snape had come to visit a few days after Harry woke up to let them know that they had found them a safehouse to stay at for the rest of the summer. He had examined Harry himself, asking dozens of questions before concluding that Harry's training in Occlumency had allowed him to partition his mind, taking what was important and guarding it while sacrificing the rest. It was uncharted territory and no one knew what the long-term repercussions might be. 

"I expect you all to be ready to leave in the morning," the man finished before turning to leave.

"Where do you think we're going?" Farren questioned Draco excitedly, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

Harry and Draco both smiled at the boy that they were quickly warming up to. He was their responsibility now and Harry wanted to help Draco look after him as best as he could.

"I don't have a clue," Draco replied. "I suppose we'll find out when we get there."

"Do you think there'll be other children there?" Farren asked, his head turning in Harry's direction this time.

"Doubtful," Harry replied. "The last safehouse I stayed at was in the middle of nowhere, no one to see for miles. I can't imagine this next one will be any better."

Farren looked crestfallen, all the wind going out of his sails at the unfortunate news. Harry felt a bit guilty over it.

"I could always be wrong though," he remedied. "We could end up staying somewhere fun."

Farren brightened suddenly, a giddy smile lighting up his tiny face as he unexpectedly hugged Harry. Draco smiled at him too and Harry felt his heart flutter happily. Even if they ended up in the middle of nowhere, Harry expected this summer was going to be one of the best he ever had.

Draco was all he needed to be happy.

 

To Be Continued in Book II - To Keep A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it, you made it to the end. Hooray! I really hope you enjoyed this first book. Book two will have a significantly more involved plot. Honestly, it seems a bit daunting, but I will push through somehow. I've grown as a writer working on this and met a ton of amazing new friends. I have a lot more help going forward than when I first started this project.
> 
> I had fleshed out this story in 2004, but quit writing when I got discouraged about my abilities as a writer. I actually quit writing entirely for over 14 years thinking that I just wasn't any good at it. I'm glad I changed my mind. This has been such a rewarding experience.
> 
> The original plot of this story had Draco dying in that last attack and Harry getting captured. At first, Narcissa is furious that Harry got her son killed, but when she realizes how miserable he is over it, she works with him to destroy Voldemort. Harry was supposed to die killing him. I just couldn't do it though. I kept Draco alive, I kept Harry alive, and now I have a whole second book to write. O.o I am so happy with my decision though as I am not ready to let this story end. I have so much more I want to say about the world and love and friendship and loss.
> 
> Thanks for making it to the end. I love you all!
> 
> \- OpalRainDragon


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